


The Glass Orphan

by MissMysteria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, BAMF Cassiopeia Black, BAMF Sirius Black, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Harry Potter is a Member of the House of Black, Harry Potter is the Heir to the House of Potter, M/M, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Not Canon Compliant, Overprotective Sirius Black, POV Sirius Black, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Protective Remus Lupin, Sirius Black is Harry Potter's Parent, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24172837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMysteria/pseuds/MissMysteria
Summary: The Black family, while infamous for the great number of their members rotting in cells on Azkaban Island, were a known force to be reckoned with. So, when Sirius Black escapes a mere three months after his initial arrest on that fateful night of October 1981, the people of the wizarding world finally get to see this power put into action. Family is blood, after all.
Relationships: Black Family & Black Family (Harry Potter), Sirius Black & Harry Potter
Comments: 118
Kudos: 739





	1. A Decision Like No Other

**25th of December 1981  
** **Azkaban Fortress, Northern Tower**

Sirius Black shivered as a dark cloaked creature drifted past the wrought iron bars that held him in his cell.

Though there were Aurors stationed in Azkaban, Sirius had been here long enough to know that the Dementors were the guards of the Northern Tower, where the Death Eaters were locked away. He supposed it was an almost adequate punishment for those who had supported Lord Voldemort in his reign, although he himself would prefer the Dementors to give a long snog to a select few.

His cell wasn't ideal though it was in better quality than some of the others. Sirius liked to think it was because the Aurors who had chucked him into it had fought with him shoulder-to-shoulder in the war. It was more likely because they knew him well enough to not place his cell next to any of his immediate family members as that would result in deathly fistfights and screaming matches.

In the 5-by-9 foot cell there was a block of concrete about twenty centimetres off of the ground in the left corner, which Sirius had covered with a thin and torn blanket. In every corner of the room there was a slit running from the ceiling to the floor that exposed the inmate to the outside world and allowed the harsh cold sea air to bite at their exposed skin.

The rest of the cell was just stone; grey and rock-solid and without a sliver of comfort.

But Sirius knew better than to expect a five-star hotel and knew better than to treat it like one. He deserved this. This was his punishment for his past crimes, his damnation for his wrong-doings when he was supposed to be better.

It had taken him a few weeks to accept this fact, but in the end a voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother's had racketed throughout his skull listing off every crime or nasty action that had led him to where he was now, and he could then breathe, finally. He was at last facing his punishment for being the son of Death Eaters, a _Black._ This was whatever higher-powers way of letting him know that his sins had been purged. His misdeeds when he had been a child, misfit, _Marauder,_ were at an end and he felt as though the restrictions that had been wrapped tightly around his chest loosened greatly.

It wasn't acceptance of his grief, in fact whenever the thought of James and Lily came to mind Sirius shoved them away and hid behind what was left of his Occlumency shields, but the acceptance of his punishment made his mind calm when the Dementors were around and that was everything that mattered to him.

Only the blankness of his mind and the thoughts of one other person made his life in Azkaban generally liveable and that was Harry Potter, his godson.

Sirius spent every waking moment thinking about Harry; what was he doing? How was he coping without his parents? Was Remus his guardian or had someone else taken him in? Had he already begun talking in full sentences, or was he still at the odd one-syllable word? How was the broom Sirius had bought for him faring - had he outgrown it already? Did he look more like James than Lily or the other way around? Of course each question was unanswered but to get to sleep Sirius had started turning into Padfoot for warmth and then begin to imagine scenarios that answered these questions with Harry at the face of them.

He _missed_ him. Desperately; it was like a constant ache in his heart.

Harry had been a wonderful, although surprising, light in the middle of the darkness. He brought joy and happiness back into not just Sirius' life, but everyone who met him. Remus had been happier around Harry, happier than Sirius could have remembered seeing for a long, long time. James had been bursting at the seams and beaming with light. Lily had been as calm and cool as ever, but Sirius could tell that the reflection of their own happiness increased her own tenfold. The only person who had not been pleased by Harry's birth had been Peter.

And now Sirius knew why.

At the time he and the others had supposed the frowns and sad looks in his eyes had been about Peter's mother who had been rapidly declining in health. Spattergroit, the Healers at St. Mungos had said, a seriously bad case. Peter had been dark and depressed for months after the announcement of the ailment and it only worsened after Harry had been born in July.

Lily had said that perhaps it was the idea that new life was being born into the world just as his own mother was leaving it. Sirius had called her a poet and she had whipped him with a tea-towel as Harry giggled in James's arms.

But now Sirius knew that the unpleasant man that their friend had become wasn't due to grief for his mother, it was grief for Harry. For James and Lily, who Peter had _known_ would be dead soon, dead or seriously injured, because he would have known that there was no way they would stand aside and allow Voldemort to take Harry instead of them.

Peter might as well have turned his own wand onto his friends - _his family_ \- and killed them himself. _He_ was the reason they were dead. Sirius would never, _ever_ , forgive himself for dragging Peter from his flat in Hartfordshire and taking him to Godric's Hollow that night. For forcing them to change Secret Keepers from himself to Peter.

The wards on Sirius's flat had been tampered with, someone unauthorised had tried to enter when he had not been there and he knew he was being followed, years of keeping an eye out for daring Slytherins in Hogwarts who thought they could take him when he was alone and his training as a Hit-Wizard after he graduated made it easy to see that.

So he told James, _demanded_ _him_ , to change Secret Keepers. To make sure that he told no one that they changed from Sirius to Peter.

_No one._ Not even Remus or Dumbledore.

It was Lily in the end who agreed and James could never deny her anything. Sirius had cast the spell.

Four hours later Sirius was arriving at Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow to find the roof collapsed in and a fire ripping its way through the house.

James and Lily were dead.

Harry was alive.

Peter was the traitor.

Remus was in South America with Greyback's wolf packs spying for the Order of the Phoenix.

And now Sirius was in Azkaban, rotting for the crimes he both did and didn't commit.

He felt like he had betrayed James and Lily by trusting Peter. It didn't matter to him that Peter had been the one with the dark mark, the one who had been a slave to Voldemort. Sirius was the one, the _only one,_ who could have convinced the Potter's to change. It was his fault that they were dead because he had allowed himself to believe in Peter Pettigrew, to trust in someone other than himself with the lives of his loved ones. He was paying the price for that trust now.

Once again he thanked whatever higher-power that was present for allowing him to see this.

The overarching message of this torture that Sirius had come to was: If you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself.

Which was why he was now crouched in the far corner of his cell, watching and waiting for the Dementors to roam past. They never explicitly bothered Sirius, preferring to move straight towards either Bellatrix or Barty Crouch Jr., which was fine with him. Sirius supposed it was because they screamed the loudest when the creatures got too close for comfort and the Dementors _loved_ it when they screamed.

As he waited, his grey eyes moved almost against his will towards the stone wall to his right.

There were exactly fifty-five white lines that had been scratched onto the wall, each time just before Sirius went to sleep. He liked to think that it meant that he had only been in the prison for a few months but after so long it had taken almost all of his strength to make sure he kept as best count as he could.

He had wanted to make sure he was ready for Christmas.

Another Dementor glided past his cell, not stopping to turn and look at him for even a second, too focused on its goal to torture the Lestranges and Crouch. Sirius cringed as Bellatrix's wails began to pick up noise and echo down the corridor.

This was it, he was going for it. Now or never.

Sirius placed his palms down onto the floor, wincing when a sharp stone dug into his hand. He clenched his teeth, closed his eyes and _transformed_.

He could feel the magic of his animagus rolling over his skin; his bones inching and breaking smaller and smaller, his skin stretching and tightening, the familiar feeling of his lungs closing over for a split second before his eyes snapped open and he sucked in his first deep breath as Padfoot.

The very first time Sirius had transformed into his animal, he had been slightly disappointed. As a thirteen year-old boy who had _dreamed_ of being a dragon or a wolf like Moony and _actually_ becoming a puppy had been disheartening. But then, of course, James had achieved his Prongs quickly as well, about a day or so behind Sirius's transformation.

The sight of proud James Potter as a deer in the Gryffindor dormitory had been funny enough in itself, but the sight of proud James Potter as a _fawn_ with heavy antlers weighing his head down to the floor had forced both him and Peter into hysterics. It had made him feel marginally better seeing that, and when Peter had transformed into Wormtail, a baby rat on his bed surrounded by Self-Transfiguration books they had borrowed from the Library, Sirius had felt that he had no right to complain.

As they themselves grew from young teenagers into fully fledged adults, their Animagi had grown with them; Peter had become the size of a banana, helpful to get into small spaces but not as "badass" as he had expressed a desire to have. James turned from weak fawn who needed help to stand up straight because his antlers were too heavy into a muscular stag, leader of the herd. Sirius had changed the most though and he suspected it was because he had spent more time in his form than the others, making sure he felt comfortable.

His inner-animal transformed from a small puppy that Dorcas Meadows had once seen and described as "adorable" (without knowing it was him of course, because, knowing her, she would have kicked him down some stairs) into an enormous jet-black dog, almost nearing bear-like stature. He was big and strong and whenever people had seen him they had either run in terror or gasped in fright.

Despite his pleasure at the size of his Animagus, Sirius _hadn't_ enjoyed the likeness to the death omen of the Grim.

Peter had taken Divination in his third year, the Gryffindors in the years above them having proclaimed loudly at the easiness of the subject, and had been scared of Padfoot for a good month before James had scoffed and asked him where his Gryffindor nerves of steel were.

But Sirius supposed it was somewhat fitting now, being surrounded by destruction and decay and sharing a resemblance to an omen of death.

He didn't want to know what his fur looked like and he definitely did not want to know how many ribs were visible, having starved himself for weeks by refusing the 'food' that was shoved through his bars everyday at noon, but it was all worth it when he stepped forward and managed to squeeze through the cage bars. He whimpered as one of the many sharp talons sticking out caught him in his side but ignored the pain even as it shot through his stomach and down to his hip.

Detaching himself from the spike digging into his side, Sirius shot a quick look up the corridor where he could see the two Dementors facing Bellatrix and Barty's cells respectively and looked to be thriving on their screams that were increasing in volume by the second.

He knew they couldn't sense him as an animal as they could only pick up on the emotions of humans nearby, but still, even with that knowledge, a terrifying trickle made its way down his spine at the sight of them so close and without a barrier between them. He shook it off, knowing he needed to stay calm and focused on his goal.

He turned back down the corridor to where he remembered the entrance and exit being and quickly padded down to it, occasionally tripping and slipping over a dislodged step or stone that stuck out from the ground.

He paused just before the gate that held the prisoners inside the Northern Tower, perked his ears up for a minute to listen for any disturbance before nodding to himself and dropping to his stomach, sliding through a gap under the gate caused by friction over time.

When Sirius managed to get out to the other side, he stopped and stared out at the scene before him.

He had known the Northern Tower was one of the most isolated (and therefore the highest security) of the buildings that made up Azkaban Prison, but what he hadn't realised was that whilst the Tower was named for its tall, hollow spire that pointed slightly North, it was also at the top of a narrow cliff surrounded by the vicious and churning ocean that spit up water and mist. There was no bridge to the other section of the Prison where one could get a boat, which had been his plan.

But now he had no boat.

Which meant he had no way off of the island without...well. He peered nervously over the edge of the cliff and stared down into the swirling dark mass of waves beneath him. As much as in the past he had been attracted to a bit of danger, after a few months spent in the most dangerous place on Earth, he wasn't really that partial to it anymore. What he wanted, more than anything, was to see Harry and possibly even have a cup of tea.

And a sausage roll.

His stomach rolled.

He needed to get off of the island.

Sirius swallowed and tried to ignore the nerves that rose in his throat.

He took several steps back, eyes darting to the nearby gate that was still locked and his heart and breathing halted simultaneously as he realised there was a Dementor stood on the other side of it, watching him with its hooded dark face and its scaly hands wrapped tightly around the bars of it.

Well, if that wasn't God's way of telling him to get the fuck on with it he didn't know what was.

Sirius took a deep breath, sprinted towards the edge of the cliff and jumped into the dark abyss below.

* * *

**1st of January 1982  
Hogwarts Castle, Great Hall**

Albus Dumbledore smiled genially at the collection of students who strolled into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Not many had stayed over the holidays for the first time in years, preferring to be with their families at Christmas and New Years, and Albus didn't blame them. How nice it was to be able to relax and not have to worry about his students and staff as they shuttered off in the Hogwarts Express, to be able to put them out of his mind.

As soon as the last student was sat, Albus clapped his hands together and breakfast immediately appeared on the table.

The young children reached directly for the endless stacks of pancakes, waffles, bacon and fried eggs whilst the staff lent more towards the oatmeal, coffee, fruits and cereals. Albus helped himself to a bowl of fresh fruit and cream along with dragging a bowl of mint humbugs close to his side.

He heard Minerva's huff next to him, but ignored her as he generally did. He was being healthier, per her suggestion (more like force, but he appreciated her concern for him so went along with her dietary plan).

There was mostly quiet over the table, with the students who had stayed behind making amicable and polite conversation where needed but otherwise seeming to enjoy the relative silence. The Professors chatted occasionally about the news of the day, although that was somewhat halted by the fact that the usual delivery of newspapers had not arrived yet.

Just as though the thought itself had conjured them into existence, a loud cawing hawk and four brown owls swept through the large open windows in the far uppers of the ceiling in the Great Hall. They flew down one-by-one, gently resting on a non-existent breeze as they descended. Albus noted the way the two lone first years stared up at them in awe and shared a fond look with Pomona as she leaned over to hand them a pastry basket.

At last the birds landed, carefully avoiding the spread of food, each next to their own individual owners. Albus smiled happily at the barn owl that landed to his right and allowed it to take a piece of orange from his plate as he unattached the newspaper from its leg, ignoring Minerva's scoff as she also reached for a newspaper on another owl that landed next to her oatmeal bowl.

He unfolded the paper, finally looked down upon the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ and felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach with a splash.

**ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN - SIRIUS ORION BLACK**

There was a loud clash of silverware being dropped next to him where Minerva sat and Albus did not need to turn to know that her face was deathly pale at the sight of her old student and honorary son splattered across the front page.

His dark and shoulder length hair was matted and knotted, pale skin was stretched across his face and collar bones tight, looking as though it would rip like tissue paper should someone brush their fingertips against it. The bruising marring the skin was easy to see underneath the oversized prison uniform.

There was a clear set of identification markings scratched into his neck, glaring out at whoever read the page in thick bold writing, as though anyone would need them to recognise the man; ᛈᛉ390. Albus knew enough about the prison island to know that it meant Northern Tower, cell block 3 and cell number 90. In the photograph Sirius Black was pulling aggressively on some chains that were fixed to his wrists and was screaming silently through a set of wrought iron bars with spikes that acted as a barrier between himself and the camera.

Of course now the man was no longer behind those bars.

Albus's burning blue eyes quickly found the beginning of the article.

_Sirius Orion Black, once Heir to an Ancient and respected House, ex-Hogwarts Gryffindor student, an accomplished and talented Hit-Wizard for the Ministry of Magic and most recently... Azkaban Escapee._

_Sirius Black is most infamously known for his disgusting and horrifying treachery of the Lord and Lady of Potter House, James and Lily Potter. Their son, Harry James, is the lone and orphaned Heir who somehow escaped unharmed a gruesome attack of which Black was responsible._

_Once thought to be a great ally to the Light in the War, Black instead was spy and traitor who spent his nights kissing the boots of previous and perished Dark Lord, You-Know-Who. The Death Eater was identified by many suspected Dark Lord sympathisers, most famously the Lestranges, as well as hero and Order of Merlin First Class recipient before his untimely death, Peter Pettigrew._

_On the night of October 31st 1981, merely three months ago, You-Know-Who murdered James and Lily Potter in their own home, Potter Cottage, at Godric's Hollow. Their son Harry Potter is now known worldwide for his incredible and mystical defeat of said Dark Lord who wished to kill the infant just like he had his parents. The reason for You-Know-Who's awareness of the location of Potter Cottage and therefore the whereabouts of the last descendants of the Potter line? Sirius Black._

_Trusted by James and Lily, having been friends since the first years of their schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he was chosen out of a select few to become their Secret Keeper, the person who would stand between the family and death by hand of Dark Forces._

_Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster and Defeater of Dark Wizard Grindelwald, was the man who has been suspected to have cast the Fidelius Charm and who himself had this to say on that late night in October, "Sirius Black is a murderer. James and Lily Potter were the best of people, they were a light in this horrible darkness and now that light is passed on in their son, Harry James Potter. Lord ********* may have been at the head of wand, but it in my mind, it was Sirius Orion Black who cast the spell that ended their lives."_

_Minister for Magic,_ _Millicent Bagnold, made the following statement earlier this morning._

_"Black is a man of the very worst kind. Not only does he hold crimes for being affiliated with the Dark Mark and You-Know-Who, he betrayed Lord James Potter, his Lady Lily, and their son, last living descendant of the Potter line, Harry James Potter, known more universally as the Boy Who Lived._

_Black allowed Dark Forces to enter Potter Cottage and in doing so made the the joint efforts of the British and European to vanquish said forces completely moot and worthless._

_He is dangerous and at present it is unknown whether he is armed. If seen do not engage and instead immediately inform Aurors. We do not wish for the efforts of both living and deceased soldiers from the War to become unnecessary with another Dark figure on the rise."_

_By request for the Ministry of Magic, we at the Daily Prophet are requesting that **ALL** citizens of both Britain and Europe keep keen eyes open for any suspicious behaviour and/or the escapee himself. We repeat what our esteemed Minister said within her speech and request that you **DO NOT** engage with the escapee._

_The public is asked by the Ministry to remain vigilante and to be unconcerned with the safety in particular of Boy Who Lived, Harry James Potter. His safety is of the highest paramount to the Wizarding World as a whole and the public should be assured that he is well._

_More on Sirius Black's life previous to October 31st, see page 3._

_Article by Eduardus Lima_

The rest of the front page was taken up by large, swirling bold letters that were quotes from several high-up Ministerial members, along with Bartemius Crouch Sr. and up-and-comer Cornelius Fudge, Junior Minister for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Albus ignored these in favour of spying the last line of the article again.

" _be unconcerned with the safety of Boy Who Lived, Harry James Potter. His safety is of the highest paramount to the Wizarding World as a whole and the public should be assured that he is well."_

But was he?

Sirius couldn't know where the Dursley's lived, could he?

Unless Lily Potter had told him before she died, mentioned it perhaps over tea without realising she was revealing her son's future home and therefore giving the man an invitation to kidnap and kill him when he was most vulnerable?

The wards he had set up around Number Four, Privet Drive had not been even twinged in those three months, and who knew when Sirius had escaped. It was a well kept secret that the Ministry almost never checked the Northern Tower, preferring to let the Dementors take roam.

It was best to check, he thought.

The trust in his wards that connected to the devices in his office only went so far, and after being alive for so long and living through so many tragedies, a man learned to trust only himself with important matters.

And Harry James Potter was the pinnacle of all important matters.

* * *

**1st of January 1982**  
 **Number Four** **Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

After examining the wards, hidden beneath a Disillusionment Charm, Albus had come to the conclusion that Sirius Black had not been to visit Harry in Privet Drive.

If Harry was injured in an irreparable way, the wards would have let him know, as well as any visitor or persons forcibly taking him from the house against either the Dursley's will or his own.

Of course, it would not hurt to double check, although his heart was now resting comfortably in his chest compared to the last few hours before he could get away from Hogwarts.

He stepped across the boundaries, feeling his own magical signature curl around him and consider him not a threat, as well as the remnants of Lily Potter's own signature. The blood wards she had placed here in what Albus had always suspected as protection for her sister, had been a prime reason to place Harry here long-term. The blood wards were now backed up with several of his own, and would warn him should any unsatisfactory magicals of whom wished Harry harm cross the boundaries.

Admiring the pansies and agapanthuses that lay embedded across their finely cut grass, Albus lifted his aged hand and knocked thrice. He couldn't help the slight jump of heart-rate as he heard light footsteps walking towards the door and straightened himself up, ignoring it as best he could.

Before she even opened the door, he could tell by the silhouette that he would today be dealing with the ever delightful Petunia Dursley, Lily's sister. They had never met face to face, however he knew that she would recognise him on sight. After all, there were not many with ties to the magical world that didn't, Muggle or not.

Although, he had to admit, not many acted in the way he knew she would. He placed a foot inside her porch in preparation for what he knew was coming as she opened the door.

Albus winced heavily as the front door smashed into his ankle _hard_ and fought the urge to silence the woman as she began to screech and shout about "freaks" and "abnormal people breaking into her home". Well, it would certainly make a scene for the neighbours.

He imagined that Arabella was getting a kick out of it down the road in Number Twelve where he had placed her as a look out.

After questioning the woman following walking out of her Floo from his office, she had not seen anyone come and go although Albus knew, she could have missed _someone_.

"Mrs Dursley, wonderful to see you-"

"Get out! FREAK! Trying to enter my house! ILLEGAL! I... I'll call the police!"

Once again, he winced but managed to pry her bony fingers off of the door and gently pushed her back into her hallway. He entered and closed the door behind him, making sure to not touch or go for his wand in any way, should she feel threatened.

He smiled. "Mrs Dursley... _Petunia_ , may I call you-"

Petunia Dursley sniffed and stuffed her hands deep inside the pockets of her yellow and pink pinafore. "No, you may not. Ask what I know you're here to ask and then leave."

Albus's eyes widened slightly in alarm. " _What you know I am here to ask?_ Mrs Dursley..." He took a calming breath. Surely not... "has someone... is Harry...?"

The woman's dull and bored face, with a hint of frightenedness, took on an almost mad smile and Albus's thumping heart stopped beating.

"He's not here. They took him."

_"They?"_

The smile stretched and took over her entire face, dull green eyes lighting up in the same way her sister's bright emerald used to.

"The Blacks.”


	2. A Tedious Journey

**27th of December 1981**  
**Svart Slott, Oslo, Norway**

Sirius rolled his shoulders back and cracked his cold, stiff spine as he shuffled his feet up the slight incline slowly, wincing as each movement caused his muscles to spasm delicately.

As soon as his body had hit the tyrannical and intensely freezing sea-water a few days ago, it was like a sharp slap across his entire body, pain was everywhere and he couldn't seem to get rid of it until he moved, paddling his four legs rapidly in the dark water.

He had lost count how many times he had thanked Edgar Bones and Frank Longbottom for teaching him, Peter and Remus how to swim in the Black Lake at Hogwarts. They had been messing around one day in the water as one big group; the Marauders and some of the lads from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Quidditch teams. A few of the 'puffs had playfully dragged the three of them under the water, wrongly believing they could swim. In all rightness, Frank had been furious, Gryffindor's stick together and all that rot, and Edgar had instantly offered swimming lessons in consolidation for his fellow Hufflepuff's mistake.

You never, _ever_ , wanted to anger a Longbottom, they were notorious with a wand and cutting with their words.

At the time it had been embarrassing. Sixteen and not knowing how to swim was something that the Slytherin's liked to pick up on whenever they saw him around school, although when James shouted back across the halls that it was due to his upbringing rather than Sirius himself it had shut them up quick. Even back then the name Black had held power, it didn't matter that he had been disowned by his mother as his grandfather had never announced anything publicly, which led people to assume that old Arcturus had never removed him from the family line officially.

To be completely honest, Sirius was desperately hanging on to that assumption himself. If the man had removed him in the way his mother had wished, Sirius's whole plan was ruined and he hadn't swam all that way for nothing. For the first time in his life he wanted and _needed_ to be a Black.

He couldn't be sure how long he had been swimming but the waves had eventually slowed down, becoming effectively motionless and more lackadaisical, which he had taken as a good sign. Then, after however long it was following this realisation, he had spotted a small fisherman's boat in the distance. Still in his animagus form and kicking his legs as fast as he could, Sirius had barked, howled, whimpered, making any noise that would attract the person's attention.

Of course, the sight of a large bear-like dog in the water and clearly calling out for help had caught the man's eye and he had pushed his boat over on the still waves, grasped at Sirius's fur and tugged, hauling him into the boat which rocked nervously with the extra weight.

The man, Sirius hadn't caught his name, had not been British. Throughout the boat journey he spoke a language that Sirius had not been able to place, but had ruled out French, German and Spanish as he had been taught rudimentary words and phrases in them as a child.

The tone was comforting, however, and the warm, thick coat that had been draped across his weak body and the small bites of fish he had been fed led him away from feeling anything suspicious. The man had clearly actually been a fisherman, hence the boat, and had seen a poor, incredibly large dog struggling to swim in the deep depths of the ocean. _Obviously_ he was a Muggle and Sirius had been irrationally irritated at first by this, but then came to the conclusion that he was too weak to apparate even if the man did have a wand for him to steal, and who knew? The Aurors might already noticed he was missing, he remembered thinking drearily as his eyelids had drooped, perhaps it was a good idea to stay away from magical communities for a few days.

What was it that Lily used to say - rest and recuperate before running off into action again like a neckless elephant. Or something to that affect.

Sirius recalled finally blanking his mind, locking himself away behind his Occlumency shields and allowing the rock of the ocean and the soothe strokes of the fisherman's fingers through his tangled and soaked fur to drift him off into to a smooth slumber. The first somewhat gentle sleep he had had in _months_.

When he had peeled his eyes open a few hours later, it had been due to a heavy shudder from the boat and a loud, what he assumed was, curse from the fisherman. He had lifted his head, rested his chin on the edge of the boat and felt his eyes shoot wide open and loose all thought of falling back into a nap.

 _Land_.

They were edging closer to a beach with a few people meandering about, kids running up and down the sand trying to build little castles and drag their parents over to see them and two more fishing boats that Sirius could see just bobbing on the almost shallow water nearby. His heart had leapt and he had stood as quickly as his frozen joints would allow, the boat teetering and shaking with the movement. The fisherman shouted something at him in the language that Sirius didn't understand even slightly and made to grab for the scruff of his neck. The man had clearly designated Sirius the role of _pet_ and hadn't taken the notion under consideration that perhaps Sirius did not want to be his pet.

So, with this fact in mind, Sirius had easily avoided the man's reach and had jumped into the water with a splash, relishing in the way that it was not nearly as cold as the water surrounding Azkaban.

He had padded up the beach, ignoring the shouts of the man who was struggling to tie his boat up on a post sticking out of the ground and ignoring the wondrous stares of the children around him sat in the sand. He had walked over the many rocky pebbles that led away from the ocean and growled lowly as some stuck into his paws, forcing him to stop his exploration and shake them off. Merlin knew what he looked like when he came to the end of the rocks and began up the grassy sand dunes; a massive wet dog with matted, long black fur and growling every few seconds or so as he stopped to get rid of some sharp stones from his feet.

After a few minutes of looking around, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, which was barely, he had finally found the pathway that seemed to lead off of the beach and towards a nearby road.

Using a handsome doggy-grin, he had charmed an old woman in the car park and lovingly licked away the sand on her feet, something that made him sick to his stomach, and even now as he remembered it he had to force bile back down his throat lest he throw up.

The woman had allowed him into her car and he sat big and tall in the front seat to try and catch a glimpse of a signpost as they pulled out of the car park.

His face had lit up into the biggest smile he could have ever pulled when he saw it.

_Farstadsanden, Norway._

Sirius had spent enough time as a kid before Hogwarts with his family to know of the vague locations to the main properties, something his father had insisted on from ages five to fourteen before Sirius had 'shamed the family' and then his parents had moved on to putting their hopes and dreams of a Perfect Pureblood Son onto Regulus, his younger brother. With this insider knowledge, he knew that there was one property in Norway that belonged to a House Black member, and that one person, now that he had thought of her, would be _perfect_ to help with his plan.

As the old woman driving in car rounded a corner, Sirius had spotted sight of another sign post directing the way they were driving.

Well, he remembered thinking to himself, he could make this work.

And he had.

When the old woman had stopped at a petrol station to fill up her car tank after around two hours, she had forgoed locking the doors and Sirius had slipped out of car easily, jumping into the back of an open car door and sliding under the seat of another car nearby that was going the direction he wanted to be moving in. He did the same thing at the next couple of stops, after around a hour or so and each time making sure to listen out or peak in their windows to get the gist of their direction.

At one point he'd had to transform out of Padfoot and into Sirius, doing so whilst crouching behind a small bush along the side of lane, because a family had caught him and swiftly kicked him out of their vehicle, unsurprisingly. He had hitch-hiked a few more times, making sure to use his prison jacket as a make-shift mask to both partially cover his face _and_ the tattoo imprinted on his neck. It was a good job he had received the Black's charming voice and features, even when he was gaunt and shaky, as he doubted his outward appearance did him any favours.

In the end, he had walked the last ten miles.

Easier said than done, even as Padfoot.

His side had started stinging, the cold water had, as it turned out, clogged his wound from the spike that he had received when slipping through his cell bars back on Azkaban Fortress and at this point the water was obviously gone which meant that a few hours after his arrival in Norway the realisation that he was loosing quite a bit of blood came about and the wound began to make large, dark red splotches on his clothing from where he tried to make a bandage. Sirius hadn't been lacking enough in blood and mind to know that no one would allow him in their cars after they had spotted the blood on him and so he had transformed into Padfoot, finishing the long journey that way - it was easier for him to walk long distances on four legs rather than two and the fact that his hair, and therefore fur, hadn't been cut in several months meant that the blood and wound would be clogged somehow.

It was nightfall by the time he had begun to see signs that read _Gamle Oslo_ and even later before he finally read the one that allowed him to let out a sigh of relief. He had transformed back into himself, groaning quietly as the transition stretched his skin and pulled at his injury. He let himself have a small breather before beginning the painfully slow journey towards the sign that proclaimed his final destination.

 _Akershus Castle_ , the sign read.

Or as it was known to the Magical World, _Svart Slott._

The building of Akershus Castle had been originally completed by a Muggle King in the 1300's. It was a strategical location at the very end of the headland and had withstood a number of wars and sieges throughout the ages. Another Muggle King had then had it modernised and converted into royal residence in the 1600's, which was when the Black family had taken an interest.

It was no secret that Magical people tended to find or see great Muggle architecture and claim it for themselevs. The Château d'Amboise in France, for example had been taken over by the Malfoy's during the French Revolution and no Muggle was the wiser. Sirius had always suspected Abraxas Malfoy, the current Lord of House Malfoy, of obliviating and confunding some of the French Muggle government members into thinking that it was just a tourist sight but that was neither here nor there and according to his dead ol' dad, Orion Black, it was completely improper of Sirius to suggest so. It definitely hadn't stopped him from asking Lucius about it at school however, and Sirius had ended up in the Hospital Wing with several small paper-cuts all over his body that itched like a bitch for days. He had resolved to not mention it again.

Between the years of 1659 and 1720 (if Sirius could remember his dates correctly), an unknown member of House Black living in Norway had conjured wards against the Muggles which surrounded the Castle, forbidding them to enter and should they try, they would be brutally killed. This Lord Black renamed it _Svart Slott_ , which was Swedish for _Black Castle_. This ancestor of Sirius had eventually died and whomever had taken over from him as Lord Black, suspected to be Licorus Black but it was unknown as the tapestry did not go that far back, had drawn the wards down and allowed the Muggles onto the property, only warding off and hiding the wings that were used and those wards still stood today. However, instead of Svart Slott being the main house for the Black family as it was previously, there were now many other properties that each member used to their own violation, so as of right now living in the Castle was only one person.

One witch to be exact.

Sirius felt his shoulders slump as he finally reached the top of the incline, breathing hard as though he had been running. His legs were beginning to cramp and his face had donned a light sheen of sweat. After travelling all day and night for the past twenty-four hours, all he wanted to do was sleep and rest in a safe and warm place. But he couldn't, not until he had her blessing and her understanding of his situation.

He couldn't remember what she looked like, the one time he had seen her as an adult had been at Potter Manor after his seventh year at Hogwarts. His Aunt Dorea had been kicking her out of the house by the time he and James had arrived home, their trunks in hand. Well, kicking her out was a loose term, the woman had only come to retrieve some coffers she had left there for 'safe keeping'. Although, later Dorea had realised that some of her jewellery was missing and shared with Sirius over their nightly cup of tea (after his fifth year it had really branched out to Muggle whiskey, but that was not the point), that her sister had always been 'light fingered' and had suspected the only reason the woman had showed up that day was to steal some of Dorea's own House Black jewelleries that she had managed to keep after her marriage to Charlus Potter.

She had been around occasionally in various Black family homes and meetings before he had lifted off to Hogwarts, but not enough to form much of a relationship other than being his 'cool Aunt who never glared at him'.

Rounding the corner, Sirius felt the wards of the Castle wash over him as though it were a warm hug and for a moment he shut his eyes and savoured in it. In that same second he heard a door to his left slam open and screwed already closed eyes shut even tighter, pulling his arms close to his chest and winced, waiting for the impact of a spell.

Instead, there was a pause filled with heavy breathing, both from himself and whoever had joined him.

A longer silence.

Then a scratchy, sarcastic voice rang out.

"Sirius Orion Black, as I live and breathe."

Sirius peeled his eyes open and would have collapsed at the sight of her, had it not been for her quick thinking as she rushed out and took a hard grip of his elbows. It all came rushing back to him at her touch; her name whispered in mutinous tones by his father and mother as his grandfather updated them all at the monthly meetings about what her latest doings were in whatever country she had been in that week. Her ever-changing hair colour that she dyed with muggle equipment, stating that it made the colour brighter and healthier (at present it was a luminous red). Her affinity for Kneazles that always seemed to patter around her feet. Her sarcastic and cutting drawl as she exited Potter Manor, grey eyes that had looked over himself and James with intrigue before announcing that she didn't need anything else and apparating away instantly.

The woman held him up against her in a rare show of affection and Sirius pressed his forehead into her shoulder, unable to hold it up any longer. He was _exhausted._

He murmured into her silk nightgown. "Aunt Cassie. Nice to see 'ya."

Sirius didn't need to be able to look at her to know that she had rolled her eyes. He thought she might have muttered something to herself, but what he heard had not sounded like something she would say, nor would she have reason to say it.

"Strongest of us all, _my arse._ " She raised her voice so he could her hear her more clearly. "Look at you, hanging off of me like a limpet." Cassiopeia struggled to grasp his underarms and started to drag him through the open door. "Where's your spine at, boy?"

"Same place as my pride."

"Your mother's disgusting place in London? What's it called...Grould? Mould?"

Stifling a chortle, he fought his exhaustion to move his legs to where she wanted them. They managed to get through the door, which shut and clicked locked behind them. Half-Sirius walking, half-Cassiopeia carrying him, they finally reached a set of furniture and then she unceremoniously dropped him onto a chaise lounge chair that he sank into with thanks, muscles signing praise for the break from exertion.

Cassie sat down opposite him, picking up a tumbler of dark orange liquid and draining it in one swallow. She placed it back down on the little glass coffee table and faced him fully, judging and interested.

"Uh, thanks. For--for letting me in." Sirius muttered, being careful to not get any blood on her chair. She hadn't mentioned his wound yet but he saw her grey eyes so similar to his own dart to it as he righted himself. He wasn't sure what to expect with her; had she known he had gone to Azkaban? Did she know of the current climate in Britain?

"Not as though I could let you bleed out on my doorstep. The Muggles would have something to say about that, I imagine."

"They wouldn't have seen me; the wards."

"They have noses like bloodhounds and even I could smell you from upstairs."

"Oh."

Raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow, she gestured to him impatiently. "Well, get on with it. Why are you here and not in that godforsaken prison wallowing with the others?"

Sirius's shock was palpable. "You...you know that I-- I mean, I _didn't_ , but you _know..._ "

"For Merlin's sake, _yes_ , boy, I know that you were arrested for murder and whatever the bloody hell else. Now, _get on with it_!"

"Right. Yeah, ok. Um..."

Cassie rolled her eyes and reached for a packet of cigarettes that sat on the table in front of her. "You look as though you've been running for ten days straight, smell like it to by the way, it is disgusting the stench wafting off of you, and you didn't once think about what you were going to tell me?" She scoffed and lit her cigarette with the tip of her wand. "And here I had been thinking you were intelligent."

Sirius's eyes burned with both exhaustion and annoyance. "Well it has been rather difficult so maybe stop being a bitch and wait for me to think, how about that?"

Her mouth pulled into a smile and she gave a low laugh. "You sound just like your father when you snap."

"That isn't exactly something I want to hear."

"No." Cassie eyed him and let out a puff of smoke. Her smile slipped from her face as though it hadn't been there. "I can't imagine it is."

There was silence roaming around them for a few seconds before Cassie took another drag of her cigarette. "Watch your language, too."

"Watch--watch _my_ language? I'm twenty-two, for Christ sake!"

"I know how old you are."

"You watch yours and I'll watch mine."

"Completely ridiculous notion. I am forty-odd years your senior, an old and frail woman. I can say whatever the bloody hell I like."

Sirius snorted and repeated what he thought he had heard earlier. "Old and frail _my arse_."

"Watch it, boy. I could still wipe the floor with you in a duel."

"Yes, because that portrays old and frail woman, does it? Pick a side and stick to it."

Her grin was back with full force and she gestured the hand holding the cigarette to him, signalling his win of their verbal tennis match. "Touché. I am pleased to note that you did not limit your wit to that of your parents. Extremely stupid and dull people. Orion especially; God rest his soul, of course. Choking on a steak that he did not cut into a small enough piece must be incredibly embarrassing."

Sirius found that his own lips had been twisting into a smile without him realising. "Couldn't have happened to a more fitting person."

"We're in agreement then."

Nodding, Sirius aimed his half-lifted smile in her direction before leaning back into the chair. He winced and gingerly placed his hand over his wound as the movement caused a sharp pain to shoot through it. Cassie huffed in her seat and picked up her wand again, ignoring the way Sirius tensed. "I can fix that for you."

His look must have been disbelieving because she inched forward in her chair until she was sat on the edge. "If I want to know all about how you got out of Azkaban then the least I can do is fix you up, correct?"

Sirius shrugged, again wincing and Cassie slapped him on the ankle _hard_. She leaned over, placing her cigarette between her lips, letting it dangle haphazardly, and lifted up his shirt, showing the bloody rip in his side off to the cool air. Sirius hissed at the sensation.

He clenched his teeth as she sent him a glare. Lifting her wand, she waved it in an intricate pattern that Sirius couldn't understand for the life of him and muttered a spell under her breath. The tip of the wand let out a faint blue glow and Cassie moved her wand to trace across the air just above the wound, following the line of the injury exactly. Sirius watched in fascination as his skin neatly began to sew back together again. No scar was left behind.

"How did you do that?"

Cassie smirked, smug. "Magic." She leaned back into her chair.

"That's not an answer."

"Interesting how you expect an answer when you haven't given me one." When Sirius looked at her, clueless, she looked to the ceiling in exasperation. "I am hoping that it is just the blood loss that is making you slow. How did you get out of Azkaban and why did you come _here_ , of all places?"

Sirius gently let go of the fabric of his shirt and let it fall down, covering his apparently unharmed skin. He sighed. "It's complicated, Aunt Cassie."

"Then please begin," Cassiopeia gestured flippantly, cigarette ash falling across the floor, "I've got all night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys! Thanks for coming back to Chapter Two of The Glass Orphan. If you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it and want to see more, leave Favourites, Follows and Comments :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my small characterisation of Cassiopeia Black at the end there, don't worry there is definatley more to come very soon. I have HUGE plans for her, being one of my favourite non-canon characters.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. The Wrath of Lord Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Just quickly I wanted you to know that I imagine Black Manor to look like Glamis Castle in Scotland, so check that out on google images or something. 
> 
> Hope you liked my Arcturus as much as I did when writing him.
> 
> Also, let me know in the comments at the bottom if any of you would be interested in reading a Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger or Tom Riddle/Harry Potter fanfiction written by me? If so, let me know please!!! 
> 
> Thanks so much for your support and don't forget leave a comment, kudos and bookmark as they continue to motivate me to write :)

**29th of December 1981  
Svart Slott, Oslo, Norway**

Bleary grey eyes blinked open to reveal a snowy-white patterned ceiling; little doves flying motionlessly from corner to corner.

It took Sirius a moment to realise where he was, the stark difference in colour made him immediately come to the understanding that he was no longer in Azkaban, or on some Norwegian fisherman's boat. He smiled, feeling the skin around his mouth tighten for the first time in months; had it really been that long since he had smiled, that long since he'd been remotely happy for a reason other than surviving a massive fall into freezing water, or not bleeding out on his Aunt's doorstep?

Thinking of his Aunt Cassie, it brought both the image of her and the thought of the time to make him blink away the sleep that was threatening to overtake his mind. She might be waiting for him downstairs; a _breakfast_ possibly sitting on a table awaiting his arrival; steaming hot tea, dark coffee, honeycomb begging to be swirled in hot water. Perhaps pancakes, waffles with extra maple syrup, piles of crispy bacon, fluffy eggs, buttered/jammed/marmaladed toasts. Maybe some muffins, chocolate, blueberry, red velvet. His stomach vibrated and his mouth watered with greed.

Even so, he couldn't bring himself to care for the images that were conjured at these thoughts.

Instead, he rolled over onto his front and allowed the fresh, lavender scent of the sheets to drift up into his mind and send him floating back into a deep slumber.

* * *

**29th of December 1981  
Black Manor, Angus, Scotland**

Black Manor, in Cassiopeia's opinion, was overly extravagant. Leading up to the main house was a long, tarmacked road with emerald green grass lining either side. There were extensive grounds, including formal Italian walled gardens, considerable woodland and a trail that she knew her Aunt Melania liked to take in the mornings, so around present time which was perfect. Lady Melania Black, despicably kind as she was to her family (although Cassie was quite certain that the niceness was fake), was known for her eavesdropping tendencies.

This particular conversation was one that she would prefer not be shared.

Cassie made her way up the drive, irritated by the clicking of her kitten-heels against it as she walked. It did nothing to calm her mind; this was an important meeting. She had sent the owl requesting an audience almost immediately after Sirius had been apparated up to the larger guest bedroom by her house elf Tippy and in all honesty, had not expected one back so soon. Her Uncle was a busy man; he not only ran House Black with an iron first, but was also proxy for House Carrow and House Rosier, due to their lines coming under his control in more recent years.

Druella Rosier had married into the family and as the last surviving pureblood of the main line, she had gifted the House over to Lord Black to keep steady until herself and Cygnus had a son. They hadn't. Instead they had birthed three girls; Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa. The line would now continue with the Black family unless Arcturus saw fit to gift it away to any children with Black or Rosier blood, perhaps Narcissa's newborn could hold the title of Lord Rosier one day. Cassie highly doubted it as her Uncle Arcturus was not one to give away power, especially with the baby already first in line for the Malfoy Lordship, but it was a possibility. In fact, Draco Malfoy could have been Lord Black as well, if not for Sirius' return from Azkaban.

The Carrow line had merely chosen to become part of the Black family. There were family members with the bloodline still living on, twins in Hogwarts now even, however Lord Carrow had decided before his mysterious death that he had not wanted a _Lady_ Carrow to lead his House in the future and his daughter had been first in line. The House had been passed on to Arcturus and then Lord Carrow, a few days after the news broke, died, choking on his scotch. It was thought that the twins had spiked his drink with something, but the inquiry had led to nothing, the twins had been shipped off to their maternal Uncle's home and if the stories were true, were wreaking havoc on the man.

She shivered slightly as she stepped through the layers of wards that guarded the great castle that stood before her. Instead of a welcoming warmth that was usually associated with crossing the boundaries of protection on a family property, Arcturus preferred to have a cool tone as it unnerved most visitors and gave him one up on them before they even stepped foot inside the Manor.

Cassie knew that her Uncle would be instantly notified that she had stepped through the wards and the _pop_ that sounded answered her silent question of whether she would be expected to walk the marathon to his study in the West Wing. She looked down to see that a small house elf dressed head to toe in a House Black tea-towel stood next to her on the side of the tarmac, holding up its small hand up in a fist as an offering.

"Beesy is to be taking Missus Cassie to Master 'Taurus."

Fighting a smirk at the elf's butchered name for her Uncle, Cassie gripped onto the thin wrist presented to her. She held her breath and closed her eyes as there was a _pop_ and she felt like her lungs and limbs were forced through a very tight rubber tube. After so many years of apparation she was never underprepared for the feeling, although it did not matter how many times one was forced through the experience because the sensation was never comfortable, only familiar.

She peeled her eyes open, blinking a few times to clear them of the usual blurriness, to reveal the Lord Black study. It was just as she remembered, not that that was surprising seeing as Arcturus was never a man for change. Unfortunately for him change was the main reason for their meeting today.

The room was dark and warm; ornate wallpaper, a roaring fire that cast warmth across the room and there were lamps set upon the walls that had been lit. A tea-tray loaded with sandwiches and cake was laid out in the middle of the large desk, parchments and what appeared to be contracts had been pushed aside to make space. She breathed in the scent of the old leather chairs and the faint lingering scent of tobacco that her Uncle preferred. Behind the desk, in the sizeable leather-bound chair, his fingers pressed together and his dark eyes considering, Lord Arcturus Black II sat waiting.

He'd always been an impressive man; she remembered from her childhood he had been a much more imposing figure than her own father even as a teenager, inspiring fear into the entire family before he inherited the title of Lord Black from his father, Sirius Black II. The entire main line was built differently than the rest of the family, as though their genetics were altered so that they could take on the amount of power that becoming Lord Black entailed and Arcturus was no exception.

In the low light of the study, she could see him only slightly but that was enough. It was an intimidation tactic, she knew, as it had been several years since she had seen him last and it would make sense that her Uncle would want to impart to her that he was still the menacing man he once was.

His features were fine-boned and sharp, angular, his nose so narrow that it was more of a blade than a beak. Thin lips were framed by a scruff of moustache and beard, less cultivated than a pureblood Lord should be allowed to appear, however if anyone was to stray from the line of order it would be a Black. His eyes were an inky black, narrow and set beneath thin, hooked brows. Arcturus was one of the few members of their family who had not inherited the archetypal grey eyes. Cygnus and Druella's girls, Bellatrix and Andromeda, were the two others. It was said that the feature had been handed down from Ursula Flint, who married into the family, and was Arcturus' grandmother. The woman was dead now of course. Legend had it that a troll had smacked her head off with its club, or maybe that was just what everyone liked to believe. Disgusting woman.

The sharp angle of Arcturus' jaw was only softened by his jet-black facial hair, which, like the hair on his head, was peppered with grey. His hair was swept off of his forehead and pulled back into a low knot at the nape of his neck. A few of the strands that escaped the leather band that held it back were braided and beaded, hanging loosely against the side of his neck. Despite his age the man maintained the strong frame that he had always possessed and she could see even through his heavy cotton robes and the shadows that were cast across him that his fitness had not declined.

Cassie had almost forgotten the existence of the house elf that had apparated her up to the study and tried her best to prevent showing the shudder of surprise that shot through her when the squeaky fiend spoke. The glint of amusement in her Uncle's eyes told her she was unsuccessful.

"Master 'Taurus, sir. Beesy is being presenting Missus Cassie."

Arcturus hummed, a low and gravelly voice that gave away his age. "Thank you, Beesy. My wife is somewhere along her morning walk. Go and inform her of Cassiopeia's arrival but do not apparate her back. That is all, leave us."

The elf nodded once, twice, and then a third time before popping away. No doubt going to intercept Melania somewhere in the woodlands.

Cassie raised a brow at her Uncle and received the same gesture in return. "Limiting my time already, Uncle?"

"I'm a busy man, niece. You know this." He un-steepled his fingers and gestured to one of the three seats set in front of his desk. "Sit. Eat. Talk. I do not have time to discuss your tedious tales of Norway so this should be important."

If she was a woman of lesser status, Cassie would have rolled her eyes. Instead, she scoffed under her breath and gently lowered herself into the central chesterfield chair. She flicked her wrist and her wand appeared in her hand, flying down from the holster held against her forearm. She twisted her wand towards the tea-tray and then waved it flippantly towards a cupboard in the corner. A few seconds later, at the same time a napkin and shortbread floated towards her gently, two tumblrs of whiskey had been poured and sent drifting over to them both. Cassie caught hers in mid-air and Arcturus watched his own land in front of him on a conjured coaster stamped with the Black family crest, a gentle smirk resting on his lips.

His eyes locked with hers as she took a sip and felt it burn down her throat. Muggle whiskey had always been a favourite of theirs. Wizards just couldn't do it better. "A bit early, is it not?"

"Not for this topic, no." Cassie replied and set her glass down onto the table with a _clink._ Arcturus grumbled deep in his throat and waved his hand; a dark coaster materialised underneath it just as a droplet of cool ice water dropped onto it.

He leant back into his chair, locking his fingers together and staring over his hands at her. "I'm intrigued. You don't usually seek me out. What is it?"

Cassie sighed, deeply, and looked around the study. Her eyes stayed on the door for a moment before she waved her wand again and then sent it back up into her holster. Arcturus' eyes sharpened at the silencing spell that fell around them both. Cassie crossed her left leg over her right and folded her hands together on her lap, fiddling but not quite with the napkin that her shortbread rested on. "Your favourite grandson has opted to forgo his stay in the North Sea."

She desperately wanted to lift her eyes from her lap to watch what she knew had happened; his eyes would have lit up and a small smile would have occurred at his mouth. Sirius had been his favourite Black child since his birth; the two of them had something akin to a close friendship between kindred-spirits. But then Walburga turned more insane than she already was and drove him to the Potters. Still, the best day of Cassie's life had been the one where Arcturus had slapped the woman to the ground for her deed.

"Has he indeed. How have you come into this knowledge, Cassiopeia?"

Cassie swallowed and lifted her eyes to meet his. His interest was obvious, so she continued. "He is currently asleep and being watched over by my house elf at Svart Slott."

"Safe?"

"The wards are locked down until I return or bid them to open."

"Interesting."

"Quite."

"No." Arcturus leaned forward and wrapped his fingers tightly around the glass of whiskey, lifting it to his lips. "What I find interesting is why he is seeking sanctuary with you instead of his Head of House." His voice was light, but Cassie could see his eyes burning as he drained his glass and placed it back onto the coaster.

"I have a suggestion." Cassie said, her voice picking up a tone that was reserved for one person and one person only and she watched with pleasure as her Uncle recognised it. If he hadn't been trained out of the action from a young age she suspected he would have bared his teeth and hissed. "Walburga and Orion no doubt have instilled misinformation into him." Before he could get out anything, and she could see he was itching to say _something_ , she continued. "It might also have something to do with the fact that he was thrown in prison unjustly by the British Ministry without tri-"

" _Without trial?_ By the _Ministry?_ " His black eyes burning ferociously and Cassie easily closed her mouth and nodded. She lifted the napkin and took a bite out of her shortbread as she watched him wave his hand viciously and vanish the tea-tray. He pulled the low draws of his desk out and waded through the files that lined up there before picking five in a row and throwing them onto the now empty space of his desk. Cassie watched and waited silently, finishing her snack, as he opened the first file and flipped it quickly, coming to rest on a page that had a set of long lists with the title across the top reading _NOVEMBER 1981 WIZENGAMOT TRIALS._

There was silence over them for a minute or two, and Arcturus finished whatever he was reading. He gently closed the file and sighed deeply. "There was no trial."

Cassie nodded. She knew enough to know that he didn't want her to answer, so she wouldn't say anything until asked a direct question.

He pulled another file towards him, pushing the first away, and opened it at a more tranquil pace. He stopped on the third or fourth page titled _INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS: NOVEMBER 1981_ and again followed the lists down with his eyes. Apparently he did not find whatever it was that he was looking for as he stopped with a huff and flipped the file closed much like he did the first.

Keeping his dark eyes on the desk in front of him, Arcturus spoke quietly. "How is he?"

"Physically; exhausted. He travelled nonstop for forty-eight hours from Azkaban to Svart Slott and was injured when escaping - by the bars, the bars of his cell." She added at the end quickly as Arcturus' eyes flashed at the idea of an Auror hurting his grandson. "Apparently the cell bars have spikes to prevent escape. Sirius says that he starved himself so that he was thin enough to slide out of the gaps but was sliced open in the side by one of them. I stitched him back up and have Tippy, my elf, feeding him blood replenishing potions as he sleeps." Her Uncle nodded so she continued. "He told me that he jumped off a cliff where the Northern Tower is and swam until he met a fisherman's boat. When the boat reached the shore he made his way to Svart Slott, walking and hitch-hiking for twenty-four hours."

Arcturus hummed, clearly unhappy. "And emotionally?"

"Emotionally... he seemed fine. Not fine, perhaps, but-"

"Hiding it." Arcturus summarised, pulling a pile of parchment towards him from the corner of his desk, as well as a quill and ink-pot. "Three months in Azkaban and starving himself for weeks will not have done him well emotionally or, as you have seen, physically. That can be dealt with soon. But first, I need to handle something."

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, thinking for a moment, before putting the nib of the quill to the parchment and writing quickly. "Albus Dumbledore is Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and I had thought he was on the same side as Sirius during the war. I had presumed that he had overtaken myself and Charlus Potter as a mentor and father figure. He would know that Sirius has not had a trial and done nothing to prevent his incarceration. I believe he is well overdue for an inquiry, at a minimum. The paperwork will need to be done with Gringotts; they have never appreciated Dumbledore's amount of control over the wizarding community and this inquiry will need to be kept quiet. They will do so or face brutal and merciless force from my House and allies. Dumbledore will be charged with Miscarriage of justice if there is enough evidence left regarding his lack of trial, but I will need Sirius' testimony and to make sure that he is healthy enough to do so before I start requesting official documents."

Cassie leaned forward in her seat, avoiding upsetting her full glass by pushing it to the side. "Miscarriage of justice would be enough to get him suspended from the Wizengamot for an inquiry."

Arcturus nodded as he continued to write. After a few minutes he finished the page with the flourish of a signature and placed the parchment to the side before starting another. "And subsequently a suspension from the International Confederation of Wizards Assembly, since the Supreme Mugwump cannot serve if they are under inquiry in their own country. We could use that to get Sirius an appeals trial through the ICW; I do not trust the Wizengamot to give him a fair trial."

"Even with you and your allies voting?"

There was a pause that was filled with the scratching of a quill before Arcturus answered. "I can't put my faith in them to vote with me on behalf of Sirius. Abraxas would follow me, Thoros also. There is no question. Dumbledore has placed his own man in for proxy of House Lestrange, seeing as Rodolphus was too confident in his own ability to not get caught supporting the Dark Lord, which means that the Lestrange seat support is out of the question."

"Anyone else? It would be easier to get him a trial in Britain."

"I suppose Bulstrode might. The man is never consistent. And as long as Burke does not know that the vote is for Sirius then he would; I think I remember his boy and Sirius butting heads at Hogwarts."

Cassie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Whose child didn't butt heads with Sirius and his friends? Quintessential Gryffindors. I remember Orion's veins bulging as he was forced to tell us about fights and playground duels at the family meetings. Didn't he once get into a hallway scuffle with Yaxley and Selwyn's boys about something?"

She watched as her Uncle stopped, scribbled his signature, and pushed the second letter to the side and on top of the first. He started another. "It was slur related. Fighting in the honour of a muggleborn girl, later went on to become Lady Potter. Sirius has always fancied himself a soldier for the bullied and belittled. As an opposition to Walburga and my son's parenting I'm sure."

"How is batty 'Burga anyhow?"

"I have shut down the wards on Grimmauld Place. She cannot get out without my express permission."

A loud cackle slipped past her lips without her say so and she ignored Arcturus' stern look. "I applaud your technique, Uncle."

"Hmn." Arcturus stopped in his writings, rolled his wrist and stared down at what he had written. "Looking at the numbers, if we went through the Wizengamot there would not be enough seats in support. One hundred and fifty seats overall and only thirty are loyal enough to me and this family, with fifty for certain in Dumbledore's pocket. The rest are on the fence."

Sighing, Cassie rubbed at her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. This was the most she'd had to think about anything in years. "ICW is the route you'll have to take then, obviously."

"Yes. I have got feelers in there-"

"Guzman?"

Arcturus stared at her and her lips twitched apologetically for the interruption. He sighed and dropped his quill onto the desk, massaging his hand thoroughly. "Him and Royston Idlewind. Roy isn't the Director of the Quidditch Council anymore but his opinion still holds court with some of the members."

"As does yours, Uncle."

"I suppose."

Silence fell against them both. And then...

"What about the boy?"

Arcturus frowned at her. "What _boy_?"

"Did I not...? Oh." Cassie smiled sheepishly and Arcturus lifted his eyes to the heavens. "Harry Potter is the reason why Sirius broke out of Azkaban Fortress in the first place."

"Oh?"

"He is the boy's godfather. Him and the Potters completed the ritual and all. It's official."

Cassie watched as her Uncle mulled this over.

"This complicates things Cassiopeia." Cassie nodded in agreement. "However, he is family. Dorea's grandson. He has our blood running through his veins."

Smirking, Cassie said with a mischievous tint to her voice, "He is close enough to stake a claim, even."

Arcturus' lips twitched as he tried to keep his facade of sternness. "Yes, he is. Do you know if Dumbledore has claim to the boy?"

"Not for certain." Cassie turned serious, brows furrowing. "He shouldn't in any case. Sirius is Potter's godfather, and therefore the parental guardianship should have been bequeathed to him once the Potter family magic recognised its Lord's death."

"You are doubtful that he doesn't have a claim, then?"

"I don't have enough faith in Dumbledore for there to be complete trust that he didn't do something underhand to get control of the-" Here, her mouth twisted unpleasantly. "- _Boy Who Lived._ "

"In that we agree." Arcturus looked down at his paper and then back up to meet Cassie's eyes. "How many contacts do you have left in Britain?"

An actual, genuine smile flitted across her features. "Enough."

"There are rumours that Dumbledore hid him with Muggles."

"Smart."

"Yes, well, we may not like him but Albus Dumbledore is an intelligent man."

"You are entitled to your own opinion."

Arcturus' right corner of his mouth raised hesitantly, before dropping back into seriousness. "It will be important for you to not get caught, Cassiopeia. Am I clear?"

"Crystal." Cassie stood from her seat, lifting the full tumblr of whiskey to her lips and draining it in one, copying her Uncle's gesture from earlier. "Where should I take him once I have him?"

"Scout his location, confirm it and then wait a few days for my owl. Scope the family; their day-to-day's, when they come and go. Then take him once you have all the information. They cannot, _cannot_ , go running to Dumbledore or the press. Then do Gringotts. Inform me of when you have him and I will send a notice that you are coming by on my behalf with a child of House Black who needs to be tested for tracking charms and the like. You shall be seen immediately."

Cassie nodded, moved around from the chair and towards the door. Arcturus raised his hand and flicked his wrist and Cassie felt her silencing ward fall to the ground, finishing its task. "Where do I go once I've done that?"

"Bring him here." Arcturus said simply, picking up several pieces of parchment that were now full of his calligraphy and shuffled them, lining them all up together neatly on his desk, ready for Beesy to envelope and send, no doubt.

"Here?" Cassie asked, pasuing on her way to the door, surprised.

Arcturus raised his eyebrows and paused in his cleaning of his desk. "You're surprised. Why? Is this not the safest place for him?"

"Not surprised, _confused_. You were never the paternal type."

"Well, Melania and the elves will see to him for the short time we have him for."

" _The short time-_ "

"Sirius will take guardianship over the child as soon as possible." Arcturus leant down to the side and opened a draw to place the files back in.

"Which will be how long?"

"I am unsure of the timeframe, hopefully not too long and Sirius has always been mentally and physically strong." He pushed the draw closed and it settled with a light knock. He placed the quill back into a nearby holder and pushed the ink-pot away from him and back into its original position. Then, he looked up at Cassie and folded his hands together, looking grave. "However, I have been around Dementors in my lifetime and they are extremely unpleasant creatures. They wreak havoc on the body and mind and my grandson was locked in a cell with them for three months. He would not be a reliable caretaker without some form of healing. The Potter boy is... what? One? Two?"

Cassie nodded. "Around that age, yes."

"Sirius, I imagine, will need at least a month of intensive care with a _professional_ Healer-"

Instantly bristling, Cassie replied snappishly. "Why say it like that, Uncle? I _am_ a Healer, I have a license-"

Arcturus actually _rolled his eyes_ , the gesture surprising her into silence more than anything else. "You have a license from 1957 which is no longer valid, Cassiopeia. You are permitted to heal small injuries and admit potions to those who are in desperate need, but you cannot _practice_. Sirius will sit with a professional Healer for a month until I believe him satisfactory to care for a child. He will also need to get past his grief for the Potters and whomever else he lost in the War. No doubt he has not done so. He was always dulling his emotions until he has completed set tasks."

Cassie, ignoring her irritation for the moment, scoffed. "Gryffindors." She opened her mouth to argue against the idea that one needed a license to practice medicine, in her mind it was _once a Healer always a Healer_ , when a knock at the door startled her into almost jumping. She glared at her Uncle when he smirked at her.

Standing, Arcturus rolled his shoulders back and for the first time since she arrived, Cassie felt intimidated by his stature. He had always been annoyingly tall and always enjoyed lording it over everyone around him who was smaller. "You are only fifteen years my senior, Uncle. Remember that."

"I am also the Lord of your House, niece. Remember that." Arcturus said smugly before clearing his throat. "Enter!"

The door to the study opened and Cassie fought against the urge to roll her eyes as her Aunt Melania appeared.

Eavesdropping. Of course.

It seemed that the Lord and Lady of House Black never aged, however. While the years since she had seen Melania had decidedly begun to take their toll on the woman, Melania still carried herself with the stature and aplomb of a far younger woman, a natural air of curiosity and energy still abuzz about her softening form. This was most likely the fault of her youth as a Macmillan, Cassie thought. Her features, in particular those sharp blue eyes, still showed traces of someone who was handsome in her day, and she plainly still took a great deal of pride in her appearance judging by the neatly pin-curled hair - a hint of blonde was still apparent within the silver-grey - and her plucked, arching brows. Her clothing, as it always had been in the past, was rich and luxurious, perfectly embodying the persona of Lord Black's wife. A smart overcoat of plush maroon velvet, adorned with a sparkling brooch was worn over a blouse of dull bronze and a prim skirt a few shades darker, with low heeled tan shoes.

Melania smiled, showing off her all white teeth, too perfect for a woman of her age and Cassie took happiness in the knowledge that they were probably fake. "Cassiopeia, how nice to see you. Beesy said you were at the Manor today." After this, her sharp eyes cut to her husband in a short glare. No doubt telling him off silently for disallowing the elf to apparate her back so that she could eavesdrop on more of their conversation.

Cassie copied her smile, although hers was more sharklike. She had never mastered the purebloodean Lady-of-the-Manor smile (all teeth and no pleasantness). "Auntie, how nice to see you again. It has been too long."

It had not been long enough, although Cassie knew not to say it. To anyone else, even her Uncle, she would be cheeky. Something on the shy of derogatory, just enough so that the person would know that they have been slighted, but the moment was too long passed to make a comment, but with Melania Black, this was not something one could do. She was infamous for her cutting words and her cutting _curses_. Cassie would have admired her, had she not been mildly intimidated by her. "However, I am afraid I must cut this short."

Her eyes drew back to her Uncle and she tried her best not to glare at the thinly hidden amusement in his dark eyes. "Expect my owl soon, Uncle."

He inclined his head. "I shall. Safe travels, niece. Remember, whatever happens within this family, stays within this family. Pollux was saying just the other day how much he misses his sister."

Irritated but careful not to show it by the suggestion that she take help when finding the Potter boy, Cassie merely increased the width of her smile and took her leave.

* * *

Once she was out of the wards, she let her shoulders drop and let out a deep, long breath.

Flicking her wrist, she caught her wand as it flew out of the holster and waved it in a small twirling gesture. Words made out of yellow smoke pulled and twisted into being in front of her as she walked along the tarmac.

_13:29:31_

_29th of December 1981_

_Black Manor, Angus, Scotland_

Yes. She had time.

With a loud _crack_ Cassiopeia disappeared in thin air.


	4. Fragile Minds and the Strength of Souls

**29th of December 1981  
Main Street, Vertic Alley, Manchester**

Cassiopeia stared up at the towering building that lorded itself above her and the other magicals of Vertic Alley, casting shadows into the even the smallest nooks and crannies of the large, open street.

Somewhere along the bustling main road of Market Street in the muggle part of Manchester was a small turning that one could easily miss if you weren't looking for it, much like you could miss the Leaky Cauldron that lead into Diagon Alley off of Charing Cross in London. If one took this left turning just past a large signpost, that to muggles read ' _PRIVATE_ ' and to magicals read ' _VERTIC ALLEY_ ', you would walk down a small cobbled street for a moment or two before passing through a layer of wards and into the main square of Vertic Alley. If a muggle managed to get down the cobblestone street and past the sign, they would be struck with the immediate and frightening sensation that they had left their oven on, or that they had an urgent appointment that they must get to.

Ingenious, if a little irritating in the fact that magicals had to look as though they were ignoring the _private_ signpost. After years of living just a ward away from muggles herself at Svart Slott, Cassie could easily recognise the curious and scrutinising looks in their eyes every time she walked down and past the sign, looking as though she had no care in the world and no guilt of her apparent trespassing. It was almost as though she were climbing over their own garden fences or something that was equally personally intrusive. Muggles had always been too nosy for their own good.

Even so, once you stepped through the ward, you were met with the bright and humming centre square of Vertic Alley.

In the very middle of the square was a large bronze statue, surrounded by a circled stone wall around half-a-metre high that held beautifully clear water. The man that the statue represented wore the signature half-moon glasses, cracked on one lens as it was mythed they had been in real life, a long sweeping deep green cloak that was pinned together at his neck by a silver snake clasp and black robes underneath. His bright green eyes sparkled like emeralds and legend had it that there actually _were_ emeralds embedded into the bronze for his eyes. There seemed to be a permanent smirk painted onto his face, the left side of his lips twisting at the edges portraying the idea that he was endlessly amused by his presence as the main feature of this rollicking Alley.

His left arm was raised high above his head and welded into his hand was a shining golden stick, meant to represent his wand. Out of the wand, every couple of seconds, three spurts of water shot out that twinkled in the sunlight. In his right hand was an english oak staff, tinged with a green tint, that seemed to echo a slight glow of power into the air surrounding it.

The statue, of course, was Merlin.

Very much like the Veil of Death deep in the depths of the Ministry of Magic, the statue was said to have been in place since the dark ages and the Alley square built around it. Legend had it that Merlin had fashioned the representation of himself; keeping him emblazoned in their society long after his death, as if just the memory of this great wizard was not enough.

Cassiopeia had always preferred Vertic Alley for this reason. The overall feeling was just much more magical than any other place in England, in her opinion. The sun trap of the centre square and how there were four main streets that led off of it only increased her happiness when standing there. Each street went on for miles, or so it seemed; magic was wonderful at changing your perception of society and time itself. The first led down, some believed, all the way to London and Diagon Alley. The second, up to Horizont Alley in Inverness, Scotland. The third to Dublin where Cryptic Ally was situated; portkeys could be purchased when you reached the very end of the main walkway. And lastly, the fourth held all the offices and business points of Vertic Alley, simply nicknamed Main Street.

At present, Cassie was a quarter of the way down Main Street, standing only slightly away from the entrance of the _Daily Prophet_ office for Vertic Alley. The main offices for the _Prophet_ newspaper were in Diagon Alley, as the basis of its news came from the Ministry, which was based in London. However the _Prophet_ , being the third time winner of the Most Popular News Outlet in Magical Britain was nothing if not lavish, even for one of their secondary offices. With seven stories, floor-to-ceiling windows on each level, cream and grey stone walls that matched with the pavement, it was certainly one of the main focus points of Main Street, much like Gringotts Bank was in Diagon Alley or the silhouette of Hogwarts Castle was in Hogsmeade.

Cassie was hidden in shadows as she backed herself into a dark corner in a small back-alley that ran behind _Potage's Cauldron Shop_ and _Gambol and Japes._ It wasn't quite that she was _contemplating_ a plan, as it was obvious to her what she was going to do, but it was more of a _how to approach this_ thinking session that was occurring. After all, possibly the worst thing that could happen would be for someone either in the busy street or in the office itself to recognise her and send a quick owl to some desperate gossip columnist that Cassiopeia Black was back in Britain for Merlin knew what reason. It would get tongues wagging, something which she did not need at this present moment.

Of course, there was a clear solution to this problem.

Casting a subtle look around the dark back-alley, Cassie made sure that no one was watching. When she was certain of her aloneness, she lifted her wand and twirled it around herself as though she were wrapping rope around her body, before ending the spell by tapping herself on her head lightly. The familiar sensation of a raw egg being cracked against her skull as the charm travelled down her body, masking her shape, made a trickle run down her spine uncomfortably, but still, she smiled to herself as she felt the disillusionment charm take hold and the discomfort slipped away easily.

Invisible, she moved out of the shadowed corner and stepped into the sunlight of Main Street, avoiding the occasional near-miss with shoppers who obviously could not see her in front of them. Cassie made her way towards the entrance of the Daily Prophet office and rolled her eyes as the security guard stood just inside the doorway did nothing to prevent her passing. She was certain that in the coming months all security jobs within places like this would become redundant because, after all, who was there to protect the buildings and shoppers from now? No more Dark Lord and the few Death Eaters that were not either killed or thrown into Azkaban were trying very hard to not be noticed in such a way.

Even if they did, she had almost no doubt that they would be able to get away with anything they wished to now. Since the defeat of the dark forces almost three whole months ago, the wizarding community as a whole had become very lacklustre about security, as though they had forgotten that people like petty thieves and murderers did exist, just not to the magnitude of a Dark Lord and his followers.

Shaking her head, trying her hardest to not allow a derogatory scoff past her lips, she made her way up the marble staircase just inside of the door, sidestepping the odd hazed-looking journalist carrying piles upon piles of parchments and empty ink-pots, and surreptitiously cast a quick silencing charm on the bottom of her heels to increase her chance at not being noticed by anyone on her walk towards her destination; the Editor's office at the very back of the second floor of the building.

Cassie had met up-and-coming Editor Barnabas Cuffe at a small Ministerial ball nearly six years back, and was _sure_ that he would remember her.

It had not been her own choice to go to the ball; six years ago she had been living only part-time in Norway, preferring to have the most of her time in Britain where she could keep an eye on things slightly easier, and Arcturus had sent her along in his stead. Something about a family meeting and, more than happy to avoid another one of those, Cassie had taken up the instruction-disguised-as-an-offer, put on her best dress robes and gone along, preparing to schmooze her way through the surely tedious evening, though notably not as tedious as listening to another one of Walburga and Orion's rants about their ' _off-the-rails'_ son.

Instead of tedious, however, the evening had been most amusing. After about an hour of listening to a tittering Minister Eugenia Jenkins, who, a few days after the ball was forced out of office and Harold Minchum was put into the position due to her lack of spine when it came to dealing with the rising dark forces and attacks on magical communities, Cassie had been introduced to the current Editor-in-Chief of the _Daily Prophet,_ Cameron Wilmington. Wilmington had then introduced her to one of his, at the time, investigative reporters, Barnabas Cuffe.

Stepping through the open doors of the office, double checking the door plaque that read in big and proud letters ' _BARNABAS CUFFE: ART EDITOR_ ', Cassie laid her eyes on the man she had not seen in years and smiled mischievously at the way he looked exactly the same. Barnabas was a tubby man; chins spilling over the too tight neckline of his light blue robes, sweaty forehead rolls hidden underneath what appeared to be the same panama hat that he had been wearing that evening all those years ago, and red and blotchy sausage-like fingers that squeezed dangerously against a new wedding ring on his left hand. Married. She tried not to scoff.

The office itself was a disorderly mess; loose parchments spread across the hardwood floor, broken quills teetering on the edge of the overfilled rubbish bin in the corner and too many stacks of newspapers to count. She could see that the top of some even read _'The Wizard's Voice'_ , _'Manchester Evening News', 'The Quibbler' and 'Whinging Times'._ Checking out the competition, clearly.

Barnabas himself was sitting behind his desk, writing furiously with a stubbed raven feather quill and an almost empty ink pot sat next to him. His face was so close to the page that Cassie thought if he was even one millimetre closer he would smudge the ink with his bulbous nose.

Pulling the door lightly closed behind her, she watched as he glanced up, confused, before ignoring the door and going back to his notes with a quicker pace than before. A deadline that he was behind on, perhaps? Well, that would obviously have to wait, Cassie thought as she glanced up at the clock that was situated on the wall above his desk.

_14:09_

It had been forty minutes since she had apparated straight from Black Manor to the outskirts of Market Street in the muggle section of Manchester. She needed to make the best use of her time because Merlin knew the amount of people she would have to manipulate into giving away enough information so that she could find the Potter boy.

Deciding that enough time had passed without her saying anything or revealing herself, Cassie reached behind her and tapped the doorknob with the tip of her wand and was satisfied when a faint _click_ of the lock sounded. She waved her wand in a smooth diagonal motion from right to left and the office was effectively silenced to the outside world as her silencing charm fell in a small bubble around them.

Only then, when he noticed that he could no longer hear the hustle and bustle of the street below from the window that had been cracked open, did Barnabas look up again. Cassie saw his hand twitch as he made to go for his wand and she moved quicker than she had in years.

" _Accio_." She intoned into the silence of the office and Barnabas jumped so violently he upended the ink pot sat on his desk and the liquid that was still in there poured out over the page filled with words he had just written. In one smooth motion Cassie both caught the wand flying towards her and forced the disillusionment charm to fall to the floor from around her, revealing her form to him.

If there was any question in her mind that he wouldn't remember her, the dramatic paling of all colour from his face answered it for her.

They were in silence for only a moment, staring at each other; Cassie smirking and Barnabas gaping like a fish out of water.

"Cass...Cassio..." His voice was a high pitched squeak and she would have laughed had it not been irritating. Instead, she scowled and internally revelled in the way he paled further and immediately closed his mouth.

"Cassiopeia Black, Barnabas." Her sharklike smile was back with full force and she saw him recoil slightly in his seat. "Of House Black."

If he weren't so frightened, she thought that he might've have rolled his eyes. "Yes- Yes, I know who... who you are, Cassiopeia."

"Ms. Black, if you wouldn't mind. Formalities and such."

"You- you're here on a... a _formal_ visit, then?"

"I wouldn't so much call it a visit. More of an interrogation." Cassie said simply. His mouth dropped back open of its own accord.

" _Interrogation_ -!" His spluttering was cut off by the _petrificus totalus_ that struck him from the end of his own wand unexpectedly. It was smarter to use his wand than hers, she figured. When he fell back, stiff as a board in his chair, his hat was knocked off his head and as luck would have it, the light caught the very same scar she gave him all those years ago. It was the House Black crest that was stamped onto his forehead, but the spell that she had used made it so that the only people who could see it as the Black crest and not just some large, random pale white scar were members of her House. Incredibly intelligent of her to do so, she had thought then and still thought so now.

"Oh, good. It's still there." Cassie tried to keep her tone nonchalant but she supposed it couldn't be helped that there was the tinge of pride at her successful spell work.

His large, doe eyes glared up at her as she approached as if to say, _of course it's still there you sadistic bitch; you_ _made it_ _so that it would stay there_ forever _._ Even she couldn't argue with that, she supposed.

Cassie poked her wand against the pudginess of his cheek and smirked softly at the whimper that pushed itself out of his throat. "Oh, relax, Barny. I'm not going to hurt you, just as long as you answer my questions truthfully and with quickness. Wouldn't want to try and force the speedy answers out of you; from experience I'd say that doesn't really work."

Barnabas' glare picked up a copious amount of heat when her last sentence reached his ears and his scar seemed to reflect the light even more than it had done already. Cassie turned slightly, making sure to not fully leave her back to him in case he tried to break the spell binding his body, not that he could. She raised Barnabas' wand and gestured it towards one of the spindly wooden chairs that sat in front of his desk. It sprang to life and began to hobble towards her as though alive and walking. After a moment or two, it reached her and she cast a quick cushioning charm on the seat, before dropping onto it with a heavy sigh and turning her eyes back to the man frozen in his own chair and watching her warily.

She smiled and he blinked, scared but unable to flinch properly.

"So, let's start."

* * *

**29th of December 1981  
Svart Slott, Oslo, Norway**

Sirius' eyes slowly blinked open, once again revealing the patterned ceiling of the guest bedroom in Svart Slott. This time, Sirius did not feel the overcoming need to sleep more and instead, almost instantly, his stomach began to painfully lurch and churn.

Ah, hunger pains. So that's what woke him up. It was unsurprising, really, considering that he hadn't properly eaten a real meal in almost two weeks. Just bits of fish fed to him by a Norwegian fisherman and the odd tasting sandwich he'd snuck from someone's bag in their car when he had been hitchhiking.

He lifted his hands up and rubbed at his eyes, groaning at the amount of crusty sleep dust he could feel resting in the corners. How long had he been asleep for? His limbs felt achy and heavy like it had been days since he had woken up and rolled over after the dismissive thought of breakfast, but the sunlight coming in through the curtains suggested otherwise. Could it really only be a couple of hours later?

Or maybe he had slept for twenty-four hours. Maybe even forty-eight? Seventy-two? Nine- ok. He was getting ahead of himself.

First things first; he brought his hands down from his eyes and pulled the duvet off of himself with great effort and threw it to the side. Even this minute action had the muscles in his arms burning and he rolled his eyes at the immediate thought of how much weight lifting he was going to have to do to overcome this fatigue. Although, he thought to himself again, maybe the fact that this was his first thought was a good thing? Because if he'd just been thinking about getting some food in his system and dreaming and drooling about stacks of pancakes and waffles and syrupy pastries and...

Oh, shit. He was so hungry; hungrier than he'd ever been, or remembered being, but the thought of food both made him want to drool and made his stomach churn so much that he thought he would be sick. Even as the thought came to mind, he gagged strenuously and his mouth filled with bile.

Great, amazing, wonderful. Reaping the benefits from the fuck-ups of the justice system already.

Sirius shut his mouth tightly, clenched his teeth together and breathed steadily through his nostrils, waiting resolutely for the wave of nausea to pass. It would _pass_ ; he wasn't about to vomit all over his Aunt Cassie's very nice guest room. Or so he assumed was the guest room, it could even be _her own bedroom_. Sirius pressed his teeth harder toegther and breathed deeper through his nose at this thought. It would be one thing to be sick on a guest bedroom's bed, but another entirely to be sick on _Cassiopeia Black's bed._

He laid there on the bed in the same position for around what he guessed was five minutes, but his perception of time was somewhat impugned by the fact that all he could think about was _not thinking about being sick._ It felt like he was sixteen years old again and in the back of Remus' mum's new car; he had been staying with James over the summer and in the middle of it they went to Remus' house and slept over there for around a week or so. Remus' mum had just bought her first ever car and Prongs didn't trust it, Remus had already had a go and Peter-

So, Sirius had decided to pluck up his Gryffindor courage and go with her on a test drive around the town. It had been the first and last time he had voluntarily gotten into an enclosed vehicle and also the last time he had been sick or felt properly nauseous that wasn't due to some ridiculous hangover that was cured in ten minutes by a potion before he went to work.

After the feeling passed, he relaxed his hands from where they had clutched at the sheets, flexed out his stiff fingers and massaged his jaw from where it ached after squeezing it for so long. He moved to sit up, pushing his elbows down against the mattress and levering himself up, when there was a twinge at the side of his stomach and his right hand immediately flew to check the skin where his wound had previously been, which automatically made him lose his balance and he fell over and onto his side, moaning deep into the pillow that was now shoved into his face.

Well, there was no sticky blood as far as he could tell and he couldn't feel anything _physically_ wrong with where the gash in his side had been before Cassie had healed it, but that didn't mean that whatever he had done to himself was fine. His insides could be messed up; muscles fragmented, if that was a thing. Knowing him, if it was a thing, then he probably had done it. Sod's law or whatever the bloody hell it was.

Sirius peeled his eyes open and nervously peered down at his side, but it looked normal, for all intents and purposes. Usual, like the skin had done before he'd sliced it on the spiked bars of his cell. So whatever that twinge had been, it'd been caused by something on the inside then. Which made it harder to heal, which made it harder to know if it was seriously life threatening or something.

Internal bleeding was a thing, right? Sirius moved gingerly to the edge of the bed, sliding his legs down and off of it before letting his bare feet hit the ground. At the sight of them he forgot everything he was thinking out, including the imminent threat of internal bleeding.

They were _disgusting_. There was _dirt_ , _muck_ and what looked like _blood_ all over his feet, covering so much of the skin that he couldn't actually _see_ the skin, he was just assuming that it was there. In fact, his feet might not even be under there at all, he was that unsure about what he was seeing.

Well, no wonder they looked like _shit_ , Sirius thought to himself, he hadn't worn shoes or socks in at least three months and however long he'd slept for, which he was still unsure about. He had also travelled for _however long_ he'd travelled for with no shoes or socks.

Christ, it was a wonder that anyone had let him into their car with feet like this.

 _Fuck_ , if this was what his _feet_ looked like then what did his _face_ look like?

Sirius stood, quickly at first, but as he got taller and higher, putting more and more pressure on his weak legs to hold him up, his head somehow got lighter too, like he was floating. And then when he moved to walk forward, towards an open doorway that looked like it could be a bathroom because of the tile, his eyes blacked out and the next thing he knew he was holding onto a bedpost for dear life as his knees buckled beneath him.

Once again, _reaping the benefits._

Nothing unexpected, however. This he could deal with. He had done it before; coming back from missions injured and unable to eat anything for a bit, or on the run during a mission that went bad and not having food for a couple of days. Even at home, before he had escaped and ran off to the Potters, he'd had his food supply cut off by his parents as a punishment for some bullshit that wasn't his fault. A bit of lightheadedness was not about to prevent him from walking a couple of steps. He was stronger than that. Sirius knew that it was a bit laughable of him to get so worked up about not being able to stand up without some support after a stint in what was literally known as _hell on Earth,_ but he had always, _always_ , relied on his strength for things.

At first it had been avoiding the odd misplaced slap from his mum, and then his dad. At Hogwarts, it had been avoiding the odd precisely placed curse from cousins and Slytherins and even some Gryffindors who had believed he'd conned the sorting hat in some way, before he'd become friends with James and basically resented everyone. In their second year it was Quidditch as a beater. Then, in their third it was becoming stronger in his animagus form, which meant becoming stronger in his human form first. From fourth to sixth it was being strong enough to fight off Moony on full moon nights, as well as keeping enough muscle mass to play Quidditch the next day if need be. In seventh year it had been training for the Order of the Phoenix and early admissions into Auror training. After graduation it had been duelling most nights, following orders during the day and sleeping in his breaks.

And not having the strength in his body to walk a couple of steps was _dehumanising_ for him.

He would manage it, though.

After blinking away the stars that appeared randomly in front of his eyelids, he shook his head to clear it and began the mindful journey to the counter in the bathroom.

It was more painful than he would like to admit; his feet hurt every time he placed any kind of pressure on them, and every time he took that pressure off again only to place it onto the other foot and the muscles in his legs ached harder and more persistently with every step. But he was nothing if not stubborn and eventually, after who knew how long and with much swearing, he gratefully collapsed against the counter in the bathroom, leaning almost all of his weight onto the cool tile and letting his legs recover slightly before placing them back on the ground gingerly and delicately.

Sirius took a breath, braced his hands on the smooth tiled granite of the countertop on either sides of the sink, and looked up into the mirror.

Oh.

His hair was long, longer than he'd ever allowed it to grow. It reminded him of his father; of a pureblood bred for one purpose and one purpose only. It was matted and knotted, he thought he could see specks of blood curled and twisted inside it almost as though it had been braided deliberately. Pieces looked to be falling out, but stuck in the dishevelled knots along with lines of seaweed which only had one purpose; to remind him of his journey from Azkaban to Norway. His skin was pale, stretched thinly like tissue paper across his bones that poked out, stark and bare even in the dull light of the bathroom. There was a beard there, too. Long is the only word he could think of to describe it. Scruffy. Disgustingly greasy and he knows he can definitely see blood in there because there's a cut on his chin. He thinks he sees a black eye, but it is hidden behind his mess of hair.

And all he can think about is his father berating him for coming home from school with long hair. Ridiculous, but he isn't in his right mind and despite knowing this and acknowledging it, he still hears the hauntingly familiar voice start in his soul.

_Pureblood sons, Heirs, members of main lines, should never look like they've been dragged through a hedge backwards. They shouldn't look like girls, with their long hair and painted nails. They shouldn't. Pureblood boys who do that, who allow themselves to look like that, get punished. And you deserve to be punished, don't you, Sirius? Look at Regulus. He looks normal. Look at Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange. Even that halfblood mutt, Eileen Prince's boy, looks more civilised than you do-_

It's the thought of Snape that does it, Sirius thinks.

The thought of his father comparing him to Snape, _again_ , the voice screaming loudly in his mind that Snape is better than him. Snape, who never had to work for anything. Snape, who thought himself better than everyone else. Snape, who bullied Lily, called her a Mudblood after telling her he _would never._ Snape, who tried to expose Moony, have him killed. Snape, who- _who even after all this fucking time is still on his fucking mind and still in his fucking head-_

Sirius grabs the scissors that sit in a holder nearby and tears at his hair with them. He can feel the hot, wet, salty tears rolling down his cheeks and thinks that he doesn't need this. He isn't in Azkaban anymore, he doesn't have to feel bad, like this, he doesn't.

But he does.

Minutes, hours, seconds flash by and Sirius finds himself flinging the scissors across the bathroom and somewhere in the back of his mind he hears them _clatter_ against a tiled wall. He thinks he hears a _pop_ nearby but everything is dulled. He stares at himself in the mirror; _pale, flaccid, thin, disgusting, bruised, marred for life. Physically, mentally, biologically._

And that is how Tippy the house elf finds him seconds later; stood in front of the mirror with hair surrounding him on the floor and on the counter. The hair on top of his head has been haphazardly cut short, almost buzzed but not quite. His beard is trimmed, but there are many more cuts and lacerations around his chin and cheeks now.

The last thing he remembers is hanging onto the countertop for dear life before blacking out.

The last thing he hears is a small voice crying out for 'Master Black'.

The last thing he thinks is ' _please God no, not my father._ '

* * *

**29th of December 1981  
Main Street, Vertic Alley, Manchester**

"I'm not going to ask nicely again, Barnabas. I want _names_."

"I _can't_! I'm sorry, I promised Albus, I can't do it! _Please_ , no, Cass-" His pleadings were cut off by the painful scream that tore its way out of his throat. Cassie rolled her eyes and pressed his wand harder against his neck as his screams elevated in noise. He was being dramatic.

"You should be aware by now that _I do not care_ about whatever it is that you have promised Albus Dumbledore." She pulled the wand back and his screams cut off until just he was crying softly and pulling desperately on where she had tied him down. After deciding on how she was going to go about questioning him, she had conjured some rope and securely fastened his wrists and ankles to his chair before triple checking the silencing ward and releasing him of the body bind. "I am being generous, Barny. You know that I am. But this situation is mildly-"

"W-what situation?" Barnabas asked, breathing hard and still tugging on his wrists to try and free himself. No doubt he was asking her to try and distract her mind off him. Incredibly indiscreet, if you asked her. "You-Know-Who is dead, Cassiopeia, you _know_ that-"

"Of course I know that." Cassie snapped and he stopped talking. "Do you think I've been living under a rock these past few months? No, this interrogation is not furthering a dark agenda, do not worry about that. I couldn't care less about them, or what they _were_."

Barnabas blinked; once, twice. He was confused, obviously. "Then...but why do you want to know the Order of the Phoenix members names, then?"

She glared at him until he lowered his eyes to his feet, absently trying to loosen them still. "That is none of your business, Cuffe. In any case it's not like I'm going to run off and murder one of them, is it? They're all very high classed people in society so no doubt the public would notice should I do that. _Merlin_ , I don't remember you being this idiotic before. Has time addled with your brain?"

"N-no."

"What was that?"

"I said no!"

"Well then," Cassie said, poking the wand back into the same spot as before and he winced heavily, "why is it that you can't seem to recall any of the Order's names? Some vow? A secrecy spell? I can break those, you know I can."

Barnabas shook his head and sighed in defeat. She waited for him to answer her and when he didn't, she began the heating spell once again through the wand and pressed it deep into his neck. He cried out, struggled with his bindings once again, before cursing and shouting out, "Fine! Fine!"

Cassie cancelled the spell but kept the wand in the same place; threatening. "Names, _now_. I have lost my patience."

He closed his eyes, clearly thinking and so Cassie allowed him a second or two. After a moment, he opened his eyes again and his dull brown stared directly into her striking grey. She saw the lost defeat there before he even opened his mouth and grinned in victory. "Remus Lupin, Caster Ricks, Tracey Set, Martha Wilkins, Jeremiah Fitzgerald and Elphias Doge. _Thats it_ , that's all I know. _I swear_."

"See?" Cassie smiled as he hung his head, one of his many chins hitting his chest and sweat pouring off of his forehead in waves. The House Black crest shined. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" The only two names she knew in that list were Remus Lupin (one of Sirius' misfit group from school and no doubt would not be easy to catch nor find. Her nephew wouldn't have been friends with him otherwise, too intelligent for their own good, the lot of them) and Elphias Doge.

Remus Lupin would be too difficult, too time consuming, but Elphias Doge she could find.

Easily.

Cassie looked back to Barnabas, who was staring up at her warily, as though contemplating her next move. His eyes widened as she placed his own wand back down on his desk, in a similar position to where it had been before. She waved her own in an intricate pattern; twisting her wrist delicately and placing her wand to the space between his eyes, which had crossed to keep the tip in his line of sight.

"Nice to see you again, Barnabas. Let's not wait until six years and the defeat of a Dark Wizard has passed before we do this again."

He seemed to catch on. His hands and legs desperately began kicking and reaching for his wand and Cassie. Maybe he thought that he could tackle her to the ground and escape.

" _Obliviate_."


	5. Future Repentance of Elphias Doge

**29th of December 1981  
Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade Village, Scotland**

Despite the emptiness of Hogsmeade Village, no doubt due to the lack of Hogwarts students staying at the castle for Christmas break, the Three Broomsticks was as lively as ever.

The considerable mirror behind the bar reflected the cosy yet somewhat wild atmosphere by displaying that on every stool lined up along the bar was a wizard or witch chugging a Butterbeer or Firewhiskey served in glasses and foaming pewter tankards, or drinking pints of gillywater, mulled mead served in an old fashioned, red currant rum in brandy snifters or even cherry syrup and soda with ice and an umbrella in a hurricane glass.

There were twelve tables on the first floor of the inn, each filled to capacity with customers laughing raucously and telling, most likely fake, dramatic stories to their fellows, their full glasses tipping precariously with each momentous swing of their arms to narrate their anecdotes. With every spillage of drink, or even food that was being either leisurely eaten at a slow pace or rammed down throats as quick as the person's oesophagus allowed, a charmed mop and bucket swung past and quickly squared it away, followed more often than not by a drying charm curtesy of Madam Rosmerta, who owned the inn and could usually be seen with her arms piled high with steaming plates of shepherds pie, fish and chips, pasties and spare ribs, and empty glasses floating behind her like puppets on invisible strings.

Up a set of mahogany wooden stairs in the centre of the room, was the second floor which held more seating and was much less lively than the first floor. This was due to the fact that not many frequenters to the inn chose, or could be bothered, to walk through the masses of people downstairs to reach the stairs. Of course, there were the people that persevered with their desire to sit upstairs and those were generally the ones who preferred a quiet atmosphere and to sip on their beverages and nibble at their meals in peace. On the second floor there were six or seven tables, depending on what time of day one went in, and in the far back were lavatories and private rooms, should you have both the galleons to pay for one and the nerve to ask.

On the second floor, if you chose the table in the far left corner, next to the balcony that overlooked the first floor, you would be able to have a perfect view of the front door and would be able to see all who came and went. In fact, at this very moment there was one man sat in one of the three chairs placed around said table. His cloud of white hair made him look rather like an aged dandelion clock, and was topped by a hole ridden tartan flat cap. He was wearing midnight blue robes and what appeared to be dragon hide slipper-like shoes. Instead of indicating interest in the comings-and-goings of the Three Broomsticks customers, his wrinkled nose was pressed deep into an almost empty pewter tankard that had, if the smell surrounding him rained true, previously been filled with Firewhiskey.

Due to his lack of attention towards the view below, he completely missed the door to the inn opening once again, allowing a cold winter breeze to enter along with a new patron. This patron was dressed in dark, hooded robes and magenta kitten-heels that glistened in the light. It was no doubt due to these heels that more people did not look suspicious of this person as they walked further inside, side stepping the odd drunkard who stumbled into their path with practiced grace and ease.

In the past, someone dressed in hooded robes would have been disallowed entrance to the Three Broomsticks, and most other establishments within Hogsmeade Village and other wizarding communities due to the resemblance to Death Eater uniforms. In fact, if you wore aforementioned robes, the owners of the establishments would have to get in line behind the customers of them, who more often than not would already have cursed the wearer of the robes into revealing themselves as either a threat or merely a mistaken ally. However, now that it was months after You-Know-Who had been defeated and Death Eater forces had disbanded and fled, the clothing one wore did not matter and suspicions into particular mysterious figures were almost non-existent. Of course, there were the select few such as Madam Rosmerta herself who still stuck by these attitudes, which could attest to why the person lowered their hood almost as soon as the barmaid's dark eyes landed on them.

With beige hair that fell in clean waves to her shoulders, the woman looked to be a picture of insignificance. Trivial features, average height, and dark robes made any attention she had brought to herself drift off quickly as she made her way to the bar, surveying the people around her as she went. She slipped into a gap between two rowdy groups of young men and women who could only be a few years out of Hogwarts and waited for only a moment before she was greeted by Rosmerta with a blinding white smile and a welcoming light in her dark brown eyes.

"Welcome to the Three Broomsticks," Rosmerta called cheerfully over the noise of the inn around them, though there was an evident tired tint to her voice. "What can I get you?"

The woman smiled and as she did so there seemed to be a slight shimmer in her complexion, as though an invisible shield had rippled across her face.

Rosmerta's eyes narrowed marginally at the corners.

"Just a large Firewhiskey and small gillywater, please." The woman's voice was bland, an almost forced irrelevance to it, but obviously to Rosmerta there seemed nothing of importance there as she waved her wand aimlessly and a small glass was summoned towards the bar in front of her, where it began to fill from the bottom up with a green tinged liquid. As it did so, Rosmerta pulled a tankard down from one of the shelves behind her and flicked her wand at a tap next to her labelled ' _Ogden's Finest_ '. The tap came to life in an almost snake-like gesture and lifted itself up to pour amber Firewhiskey into the flagon.

While the drink filled up, Rosmerta continued to assess the woman in front of her as she looked around the room with interest. After a few seconds or so, she seemed to notice that she was being stared at and spared the barmaid a polite smile which was returned tight lipped.

The tap finished filling the Firewhiskey and Rosmerta pulled it out of the drink and dropped it to the side carelessly, where it sprang to life once again and floated back into its holding place. The woman before her proceeded to search the room and Rosmerta couldn't seem to help herself; she could feel something off about this woman. "Is there someone you're looking for?"

The woman's attention returned to her instantly. Her eyes glinted in recognition that she was being appraised and she nodded slowly, reaching into a pocket of her robes as she did so, pulling out two galleons and placing them down on the bar. "I was supposed to be meeting with one of my mother's old friends." A sad expression worked its way onto her face. "She died recently and I was hoping to inform him in person."

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss. What was her na-?"

"I'm afraid I don't know his full name, but I think it was a Mr. Doge? Do you know where I could find him?" she said, talking loudly to be heard over the group of wizards next to her. Rosmerta's eyebrows rose at the interruption but she shrugged it off, thinking the woman hadn't heard her. She turned, craning her neck to look over the inn, eventually spotting the man in question in the corner of the second floor through the wooden railings of the balcony. Pointing him out to the woman in front of her, she took the galleons off of the bar and excused herself quickly to go and serve another new customer who had walked up to the bar.

The further she got from the mysterious woman, Rosmerta found her mind began to cloud and ache slightly. Shaking her head to rid it of the slight throbbing which she blamed on the amount of noise materialising from the large amount of people in her inn, she halted in her movements, before continuing once it passed. When she reached the new customers, she plastered on her usual barmaid smile and by the time she finished serving them five minutes later, she couldn't remember a single thing about the conversation with the woman, least of all her suspicions.

In fact, she couldn't remember serving her at all.

Had anyone been watching the woman in question following Rosmerta's leave, they would have noticed her wand drop into her hand from a holster hidden up her sleeve, and would have seen her wave it subtly down by her side in a circled gesture towards the departing barmaid's back and a grin that didn't at all suit her bland face lift at her mouth when Rosmerta stopped and shook her head as though to clear it, before continuing on and serving the new customers.

After this, the woman turned, pushing her wand back up into her sleeve, and pulled a small vial out of her robe pocket. She cast a surreptitious glance to see if anyone was watching and when she realised that no one was, she allowed four small drops to drip into the Firewhiskey tankard before quickly shoving the vial back into the same pocket.

Picking up the two drinks in front of her, she turned, walked away from the bar and made her way through the crowds of people, before stopping at the foot of the large mahogany staircase. She exhaled a small breath and then lifted her right foot to begin her ascent of the stairs.

Making her way up the stairs, taking care to not spill the drinks so to not attract too much attention to herself, the woman made sure to swirl the tankard and therefore mix the clear, colourless liquid that she had added into the Firewhiskey, making it indistinguishable from any other Firewhiskey drink. Her mouth stretched into a smirk that she was quick to hide when she spotted the man in the far left corner of the balcony, the man that Rosmerta had pointed out.

Elphias Doge, previous member of the Order of the Phoenix and lifelong confidant of Albus Dumbledore.

At present he was pushing an empty tankard away from him and searching the sections of the first floor that he could see over the balcony, no doubt for Madam Rosmerta or another Three Broomsticks employee to refill his drink. Well, it was lucky she had one intended for him already.

"Mr. Doge?"

Doge's head snapped up from where he had been looking and he faced her, brow creasing as he tried to place her face. She allowed a light laugh to pass through her lips as she slid into a seat opposite him, placing the small gillywater next to her and the Firewhiskey on a coaster next to him. His eyes flickered between her and the drink; conflicted.

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but my name is Dorea White. I am a huge fan of your book-"

"Oho! _Legislative Guide to the Proper Use of Magic_?" His voice was high pitched and wheezy and the woman forced herself not to show her distaste of it on her face. She nudged the Firewhiskey closer to him, internally grinning like a cheshire cat when he took hold of the drink.

"Exactly; it's very informative. Sorry for intruding on you like this, but I wanted to buy the author of my favourite book a drink."

Looking very pleased with himself, Doge took a huge swig of the Firewhiskey and smacked his lips together. "Your favourite book, eh?"

Dorea White's eyes glinted and they followed the glass as he took another large drink. "Oh yes, it's very interesting reading all about the restrictions on magicals as per the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. I was wondering how you managed to learn about it? I was under the impression it was all... kept under the radar, one might say."

"Did some investigative journalism, didn't I? Asked some friends at the Ministry for some secret tips." Doge winked at her, before stopping for a moment and staring at her confusedly. Then, something clearly clicking in his mind, he turned to stare at the drink.

She smiled sweetly. "Can I ask which friends gave you some of these 'secret tips' and what departments they work in?"

Panicked. Panicked was really the only word that could be used to describe the look that crossed Elphias Doge's face as he realised that he would be compelled to answer. He appeared to struggle with his voice for a couple of seconds, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water before the words were forced out of his mouth without his consent. "Bilius Finbok, who works in the Department of Intoxicating Substances and Charlotte Pickering in the Statute of Secrecy Task Force."

There was a moment of silence between them as Dorea White took another sip of her gillywater. Doge's eyes flickered between her and the tainted Firewhiskey.

"What's your name?"

"El-Elphias Dog-Dog- _Doge_."

"And when were you born?"

"13th of Octo-Oct- _September,_ 1880."

She clapped her hands together in delight, took another sip of her gillywater and ignored Doge as he grasped at his neck in shock. When he went to stand, he struggled and his eyes widened as he realised that she had somehow stuck him to his seat.

Her wand fell into her hand from her wand holster and she subtly cast a silencing ward around them. She summoned his wand silently from where it had been sitting next to him on the table and placed it in her pocket.

Then, palming her wand, she leant back in her chair and grinned at him. "Good evening, Mr. Doge. My name is Cassiopeia Black, of House Black. You have ingested just over the recommended amount of Veritaserum for Ministry interrogations from the Firewhiskey that you didn't even try to test. I was prepared to have to force it down your throat, or maybe a quick _Imperius_ to loosen your inhibitions, but unfortunately the lack of Death Eaters running around the streets has made your instincts suffer. Unfortunately for you, I mean. Good news for me. In case you try to get up again, just know that I've performed a sticking charm on the chair to your robes and the chair legs to the floor, so unless you want to run around naked I would advise you to stop moving or life will soon get very uncomfortable for you."

Cassie grinned at his pale, gaping face and tapped her wand against her palm menacingly. If they weren't in a public space, she would have forced some red sparks out of the end of it to intimidate him more.

"Tell me, Mr. Doge, where is the location of Harry James Potter?"

His eyes bulged in surprise and fear and she tries not to take too much pleasure in it.

"Harr-Harry Pot..."

" _Harry Potter_ , Mr. Doge." Cassie repeats slowly, focusing in on the syllables one-by-one. "The child that everyone now calls the ' _Boy Who Lived_ '."

Doge's eyes shifted to the side and he avoided looking at her. His mouth curled up in contempt; contempt for her or the nickname, she didn't really care. It was a good sign either way, she thought."I don't-"

"Tell me where he is. His location. I want Harry Potter's location; tell me where he is." Cassie demanded, leaving no room for him to slip through a loophole.

"I don't know!" Doge spat at her, and Cassie was thankful that there were so few patrons on this floor. There were a couple in the opposite corner to them, but they looked so intertwined in each other that they didn't notice anyone else, and a group of three teenagers who looked like they should be at Hogwarts but had snuck out for dinner and transfigured some robes out of their ties. Badly transfigured. Well, if there was a time to do it it was now, when security was slackened to almost nothing. "I don't know where he is, Albus didn't tell me!"

"So Albus Dumbledore knows where he is? But he didn't tell _you_."

Doge nodded rapidly, carefully not moving his midriff so that his legs didn't pull at the fabric of his robes and rip them. "Yes, precisely." He sneered at her, an expression that looked very out of place on him. "See? I don't know anything so why don't you-"

Cassie held up the hand that wasn't holding her wand and shook her finger, silencing him. "Is it safe to assume that he told _others_ in your Order?"

"Order? What Order? I don't have any idea what you're-"

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Cassie glowered at him and he inched back in his seat as far as his stuck robes would let him. She bared her teeth and he recoiled, eyes wide at her instantaneous and abrupt anger. "I'm obviously going to have to spell it out for you then, Doge." His eyes screwed closed tight in apprehension and nerves. " _Who. Did. Albus. Dumbledore. Tell. Of. Harry. Potter's. Location. In. The. Order. Of. The. Phoenix?_ "

She stared at him closely, watching for any sign of indication of names. She watched as he pressed his lips together and pushed down a smirk as the pain that the potion caused by not telling the truth increased more and more as time went on. It took, altogether, around thirty seconds for him to break. "Diggle, Jones, Hagrid, F-Fi-F-Figg-"

There it was. It was well known, within certain _questionable_ circles, that if you struggled under the truth serum then you were fighting it more. What need would he have to try and hide the name _Figg_ from her more than the others? Was the Potter boys staying with her somewhere?

"Figg?" Cassie interrupted quickly. "What's their first name?"

Doge stared at her resolutely. Despite being seemingly deigned to his fate as unable to lie to her, he still obviously had a little fight in him. She rolled her eyes to the heavens and tried again. "What is Figg's first name, Doge?"

" _I don't know_ , we weren't told first-"

"Alright then, I'll rephrase." A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face but even so, he glared at her and pressed his lips together steadfastly. If she wasn't on a time crunch - she had no way of knowing if at any point Dumbledore would decide to move the boy from his hiding place and if he did so without letting anyone from his somewhat limited circle know then she had no hope whatsoever of finding him - it would be admirable, the bravery that he held when facing an opponent. It was easy to see why Elphias Doge had been in the Order of the Phoenix - although what some called bravery and strength, she called stupidity. What was the point in glaring at her? An intimidation tactic? It was laughable.

She cleared her throat and tapped her fingers against the table. Doge's eyes moved to follow the movement. "Who do you know with a last name called Figg?"

He swallowed strongly as he fought the serum. "James Figg, George Figg, Eugene Figg-"

" _Stop_ being _difficult,_ or so help me I'll do more than _stick you to a chair_ and _give you Veritaserum_!"

"Forcibly gave me Veritaserum!" Doge snapped back and, to his everlasting credit, didn't flinch when sparks flew out of the end of her wand. The couple in the corner turned to face them as the sparks drew their attention and Cassie immediately smoothed out her features and smiled, rolling her eyes fondly and mouthing 'sorry'. She patted Doge's knee and he growled deep in his throat, unable to move due to the sticking charm, but of course the couple couldn't hear this so they laughed and waved her off.

To another couple, a couple's spat seemed like a commonplace occurrence. They turned back to themselves, and Cassie turned back to a furious Doge and glared at him full force. Again, he didn't flinch.

"Tell me the _full name_ of an _alive witch or wizard_ with the surname of Figg who was previously or is currently in or associated with the Order of the Phoenix and/or Albus Dumbledore."

She tried to not get too smug as Doge finally realised there was no way around answering her question. His burning gaze clearly told her she wasn't successful. Oh, well.

"Ara-Ara... Arabel... bel-lla Figg." He said, his face contorting with pain as he answered her question in parts. After he said the name, he looked so distraught that she thought that if he hadn't been stuck to the chair he might've thrown himself over the side of the balcony. She supposed that in his mind she could very well be a Death Eater who had escaped capture and was looking to murder Harry Potter. Well, he wouldn't be too upset for long.

Smiling sweetly, she continued. "And where can I find Arabella Figg?"

His enraged gaze bore into her face as she smiled at him. " _I. Don't. Know._ Just _fuck off_! I've told you everything! _Fuck off!_ _Fuck you_ \- you...you... _you_ _stupid bint_! I've told you everything about it - _everything_ I know!" Then, his eyes widened and Cassie waited, somewhat on edge, for whatever it was that he had come to the conclusion of. " _Please_ don't hurt Harry! _Please,_ he's _just_ a _boy, don't hurt him,_ he's done _nothing,_ nothing at _all..._ just a boy _..._ he's _just a child!_ Don't _hurt_ him _, please, please, please don't hurt_ him! I'll do _anything you want,_ just _don't hurt Harry, please, please, please, please, please-"_

"Be quiet, you ludicrous old man!" Doge shut his mouth with a _snap_ and Cassie rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. "I'm not going to hurt the boy, _obviously_. He's family."

Doge looked baffled. "Family? Harry Potter has no fami-!" Her glare seemed to catch him off guard and he shut his mouth again.

Her voice was quiet and deadly when she spoke, her wand was pressed into his thigh which shook madly under the pressure. "Be very careful, Doge. I am a Black, his grandmother was my sister. Therefore, his father was my nephew. Which makes Harry James Potter my great nephew. Which makes me his great Aunt. Which means that I, along with my entire surviving bloodline, are his _family_. And people, especially children which, _as you so kindly pointed out to me,_ Potter is, need to be with family."

"Now," Cassie removed her wand from his thigh, reached into her pocket and pulled out his own wand. She placed it on the table, just in front of her, and his eyes focused in on it hungrily. No doubt he wanted to curse her to high heaven and possibly call the Aurors. Well, she would be long gone before he could even think about what curse to use, not that he would be able to. "Where can I find Arabella Figg?"

"I told you-"

She waved him off. "Fine, fine. You don't know where she is. But _who does_ know where she is?"

"I don't-"

"You _do_. Who knows where Arabella Figg is?"

"Albus Dumbledore." Doge said, smug. A smirk lifted at his mouth, but it quickly disappeared when she pressed her wand back against his thigh, hidden by the sides of the table so that no one around them could see. She pushed a small amount of heat through it and he whimpered, a weak sound that vibrated from the bottom of his throat most likely without his knowledge.

"Why is it that people think I can be sassed? Do I look like a woman with patience?" When Doge went to answer, she scoffed loudly and cut him off. "That was _rhetorical._ Tell me, Elphias Doge, who, _other than Albus Dumbledore,_ knows where I can find Arabella Figg?"

"Mund-Mundungus Fletcher knows. Mundungus Fletcher." Doge said quickly, persuaded perhaps by the increasing heat emitting from her wand and into his leg. Cassie rolled her eyes and pressed the wand further into his leg. He cried out again.

"Someone else. Mundungus Fletcher is a difficult sleaze to find, you know that. Who other than Mundungus Fletcher knows where I can find-"

"Minerva McGonagall!"

If she wasn't trying to be inconspicuous, Cassie would have leant across the table and slapped him. As it was, she only scowled until he got the message.

"I don't _know_! I don't know anyone else who knows! You _have_ to believe me!"

"I am going to ask you _one last time_." She dug her wand deep into his skin, the heat had seared through the fabric of his robes and he winced heavily as the heat made contact with his leg. "Who, _other than_ Albus Dumbledore, Mundungus Fletcher and Minerva McGonagall, knows where I can find Arabella Figg?"

When he just shook his head resolutely and began repeating "I don't know! I don't know! I'm sorry - I don't know!" Cassie finally withdrew her wand. As he sighed gratefully and let his head fall down to rest upon the wooden table, she took some time to look around them once again while he recovered. The couple from before had left and as she turned, she could see that they were walking through the front door now. The group of three teenagers were still sat a few tables away from them, and one of them was staring warily at Doge as he sucked in deep breath after deep breath and clutched at his leg.

She cursed him under her breath and took down a section of her silencing charm, leaving it only standing around Doge.

Raising an eyebrow at the boy, she waited until he realised she noticed him staring. It took only a minute at the most, but when he saw her looking at him, he blushed a deep red and avoided her eyes at all costs. His two friends noticed this and turned to see her staring at them.

"Shouldn't you be in school, kids?" She asked teasingly, and the one who blushed stood instantly from his seat and began to walk towards the stairs, looking down at the ground and avoiding her stare, leaving a few sickles as a tip behind. One of the two others rolled his eyes but stood as well, leaving a few knuts and half-heartedly giving her a glare, but the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth took away any of the heat. The last one gave her a wary smile, before looking at Doge and frowning in concern.

Cassie shrugged when he raised a questioning brow at her. "He's cheating on me. Deserves everything he's getting." When the boy continued to look disbelieving, she gave him a conspiring wink. "Tell you what, I won't tell Dumbledore if you don't tell anyone about this."

The boy grinned at her and swivelled in his chair to face her fully, his elbow leaning on the back. "What's that? A secret for a secret?"

"Not a secret." She eyed the green and silver loose threads at the bottom of his poorly transfigured robes. "But considering we're both from the same House I'd say you'd understand the difference between a secret and one's own business."

At his panicked look, she gestured to the threads and smiled as matronly as she could when he cursed under his breath in a way that she obviously wasn't supposed to hear. "So, maybe I keep your business to myself and you keep mine to you and your friends."

He seemed to mull this over in his mind, before nodding quickly. Standing from his seat, he turned, dug around in his pocket before picking out a few loose silver and bronze coins and dropping them onto the table with a _clatter._ Just as he reached the stairs, gesturing at his friends to wait up for him, she called out, "By the way, transfiguring your ties was a good idea, but next time do a handkerchief instead. And twist your wand to the left, not the right; it's all in the wrist."

His laughter echoed around the staircase as he managed to walk backwards and face her at the same time. "Thanks. Good luck with your husband."

She saw him meet with his friends at the bottom of the stairs through the balcony, nodded at him when they all looked back up at her, and watched them all until they walked out of the door. Then she turned back to Doge, who was still sat with his head resting on the table. If she didn't know better, she would say he'd fallen asleep, but she knew he was trying to get her to _think_ that he was so that perhaps she'd leave him alone.

Cassie scoffed.

_Some people._

Waving her wand in an upward motion, she lifted the silencing ward over herself once again and studied the man before her. What had she learned from him? A few names; Diggle, Hagrid and Arabella Figg. The latter of the three was, to her mind, the most important as Doge had seemed most reluctant to part with any information on the woman. The name _Figg_ seemed familiar, but nothing stood out to her in her mind so perhaps it was merely irrelevant; a name that had come up in the years that she had been alive. Perhaps even someone she had been at Hogwarts with, or a husband with the same last name that she had run into.

Despite the fact that he had offered up Figg's name, and some snivelling wishes that she not harm the Potter boy, Doge definitely did not know where Arabella Figg was or anyone of little importance who would know. Mundungus Fletcher was much too hard to find, and even if she did manage to find him in some box in Knockturn Alley, she knew that he probably had some semblance of mental barriers to stop people from retrieving the truth from his mind, which would also prevent her getting much from him when using Veritaserum. The man lied to unsuspecting people for a living, it would be insane of him not have even a little Occlumency skill.

Then there was Minerva McGonagall... well, the Transfiguration Professor reminded her too much of Melania; in appearance was somewhat unsuspecting, but would lure you in before snapping at you like a serpent in the grass. Of course, McGonagall was all too much of a lioness to actually be that sneaky, but Cassie suspected that the woman could very well have been a Slytherin or, at the very least, a Ravenclaw. In addition, she was also miles too deep in Dumbledore's pocket, so there could be no feasible way of her slinking into the woman's mind, taking the address of Arabella Figg and slinking off again without him knowing.

And so, there was only one thing left for her to do. There was one person that she could think of who would know exactly where to find Arabella Figg, despite their differing status' in society. Even with her great reluctance to ask for assistance, from him in particular, there were no more leads for her to follow. Well, she supposed that she could look into anyone with the last name of Diggle or even Jones, but she wasn't sure that their names were of any significance to her. Also, there was Hagrid, who she was almost one hundred percent sure was the gigantic man called _Rubeus_ Hagrid of Hogwarts; the groundsman or whatever it was that he did. Even if he wasn't even further in Dumbledore's pocket than Mcgonagall, which he was, Cassie would be rather against trying to break into his mind or ask him things about Harry Potter due to the fact that she was certain that he had some sort of giant or trolls blood in him, which would make it very difficult for her to pursue him as any magical creatures already had mental blocks on their mind.

Speaking of mental blocks, Cassie returned her attention to the man in front of her. Doge had finally lifted his head and was staring at her, eyes filled to the brim with hatred.

He lifted a shoulder in the direction of his wand and she shook her head minutely. His glare picked up a great amount of heat and she rolled her eyes; after everything she had done, did he really think she was about to just allow him to take his wand back?

"What happens now, then? You're going to kill me? Torture me?" Doge asked, derision flitting across every word. Cassie fingered her wand and lifted her hand to palm at his that sat on the table in front of her.

"Obviously not. We're in a public setting, that would not look good for me." Doge scoffed, loudly and shifted his eyes to the side. When he wasn't paying attention to her, Cassie suddenly lifted her wand at him and surged forward, pressing it directly into the space between his eyes. Doge tried to throw himself backwards and away from her advances, but the sticking charm ran true and kept him in the same position no matter how much he struggled. There was a loud _rippp_ that was most likely his robes tearing, but Cassie paid them no mind.

With her wand pressed hard against his forehead, she held strongly onto it and closed her eyes, concentrating, as she whispered, " _Legilimens_."

Cassie was suddenly on a thick sheet of ice, shivering violently in a cold she couldn't feel. Looking up, she saw that the sky around her was a stark midnight blue, a similar shade to the robes Doge was wearing that day; perhaps it was his favourite colour. A wind that seemed to materialise into existence just as she thought about it whirled through the artic landscape, chilling her to the bone, whipping her dark robes around her ankles and making it almost impossible for her to move forward or back. If she were less determined, she would just ease back out of Doge's mind. But an irresolute woman she was not.

All around her was ice, a thought occurred to her to ask as to why Doge had erected an artic terrain as his mind palace, but she dismissed it as quickly as it came. In her years of being a Healer, specialising in Mind Healing particularly (and no matter what Arcturus said, she still believed that _once a Healer, always a Healer_ was as truthful a statement as any and that if she had the forthright desire to heal Sirius herself, she definitely could), it was always a private and most often a _traumatic_ _experience_ that formed the environment in which your Occlumency would settle around, so more often than not, the witch or wizard in question did not have a say in what form their mind barriers took. The only say they had was how they used this terrain to their advantage when building their Occlumency barriers.

It was one of the main reasons why she had chosen, all those years ago, for Mind Healing to be her major and Spell Damage to be her minor. To see in which different ways different people chose to protect their memories had always been an interest of hers. Most of the time it was inventive, or at least in the cases she'd had the pleasure of seeing. But, when she looked down through the thick sheet of ice below her feet and saw what appeared to be a light shimmer beneath it, she summarised that Elphias Doge's mind would not be nearly as intriguing.

Taking the tip of her wand, she leant down and pressed it against the tough ice.

" _Incendio_." She whispered, and a conjured jet of flames began to immediately melt the ice beneath the wand. Cassie moved her arm in a circular motion, taking the wand with her as she went, leaving enough space within the circle itself for her to fit through.

When the circle finished, a compact rounded block of ice melted and fell away, leaving a circular gap in its place. Peering through the dark abyss in the hole in the ice, Cassie couldn't make out a single thing. It was only with the knowledge that she wouldn't actually be harmed physically if she was harmed in this environment that allowed her to take a short breath, gather her courage, and step forward, jumping into the seclusion of the chasm.

She was immediately plunged into glacial, ice-cold sea water that was pungently salty and burned her eyes as they fought to stay open and aware. Waving her wand around her mouth and neck, she quickly cast a bubble-head charm and sucked in her first deep breath underwater, blinking rapidly to force her eyes to get used to the brackish water.

She began to sink in the water, and her only thoughts as she watched blue orbs that seemed to emit a light, almost dainty glow float up past her, was that she was surprised at the lack of resistance that she had faced when accessing Doge's mind. It was with an ease she would not think she'd be able to access even an eleven year olds mind in this day and age. Maybe a Muggleborn's mind, who had not gone through any hardship in which they would have to have an increased mental strength, but no other. It was remarkably simple, his protections for his memories. All she'd had to do was burn a hole through some ice and jump through it, before casting a relatively simple charm that was taught to most sixth year classes at Hogwarts. Cassie had previously thought that Order of the Phoenix members would have incredible defences, and had been admittedly hesitant to try and use Legilimency on any members of the vigilante group.

Quite obviously, the lack of fighting dark forces in previous months had taken its toll on the man. Nobody had been in his mind, not even himself, for over three months. So, even before the downfall of the Dark Forces, Doge hadn't been religiously protecting his mind. It was interesting to her, the lack of care some people contained about protecting their innermost thoughts. The Dark Lord had been rather infamously known for his prowess in the mind arts, after all, so one would think that those opposing him would take great care in protecting their minds from him.

Through years of practice, she could sense rather than see the tiny golden strings that connected each blue bubble-like memory orb that passed her as she continued her descent in the water. With a twirl of her wand, and an unspoken _Aresto Momentum,_ she slowed her plunge deeper into the water enough that she could lift the tip of her wand and delicately press against a memory that she stopped next to. Instantly, she was engulfed in one of Doge's memories of a meeting with some friends at a Muggle bar after work one evening. As quickly and safely as she could, Cassie removed herself from this memory; one of the last things she needed was to accidentally tamper with an already existing and manifested memory. The only ones she needed to tinker with were ones that she featured in.

Pointing her wand high above her head, Cassie muttered a garbled, "Ascendio", and carefully controlled the amount of force that was pushed through her wand, therefore controlling how far she was accelerated upwards.

After passing around fifteen bubbled memories, she slowed to a stop and selected another memory; this time she found herself watching as a melancholic Doge entered the Three Broomsticks after a long day at work, shivering in the cold December afternoon air. He lifted an aged hand in greeting to a much less busy and bustling Rosmerta at the bar and walked up the stairs, before seating himself behind the same table she had found him at hours later.

Cassie removed herself from the memory, before intricately unwinding a tiny golden string from that one to the one above it, which she knew to contain her arrival. Once it was removed and separated, she inserted herself into the memory. Cassie watched as her past self made her way up the stairs, holding the small gillywater and Firewhiskey that contained secrets drops of Veritaserum, and seated herself at Doge's table.

She laid in wait, watching and listening as she simpered to the man about his book ' _Legislative Guide to the Proper Use of Magic'_ and he ate the praise up proudly. Just as she asked him about how he managed to find all the information about the Statute of Secrecy, Cassie stopped the memory in its tracks.

Instead of removing herself once again, this time she cast an advanced o _bscuro_ charm over the memory, thereby making it as though a very thin layer of fabric had been placed over the eyes of any who would try and access it, and forcing the memory to become almost blurry and staticky. Then, she spelled her own voice with a _quietus_ charm to force her voice in the conversation to be quieter than Doge's own. She did this because it could often happen in people's memories, especially when said people become intoxicated enough that they did not recall what the other person was saying enough for it to be really clear and for the memory to stand out.

Within memory tampering, one can never implement fake memories. _Obliviate_ removes memories and replaces it with a _suggestion_ of what could have occurred, because the human mind - be it Muggle or Magical - cannot understand or make sense of a missing memory, therefore needing something to fill that gap in the mind, even if that filled gap is with something which doesn't at all make sense within the context, it will be forced to fit because it makes more sense than having a _missing_ memory _._ _Legilimens_ is based around _twisting_ a memory already in place and masking it into a memory that portrays something that has already happened in a different way than it did.

When Cassie had finished twisting the memory, if a Legilimens such as Dumbledore was to look through Doge's mind, they wouldn't see her, nor would they be able to hear her perfectly. She had completely cut off her own voice when she began discussing her real name and intent and had changed and warped Doge's own voice to suggest that due to his level of intoxication, even he did not remember what he said.

Despite already glamouring her appearance into something different, blonde hair, brown eyes and dark robes, she had hidden her appearance within the memory as it would be obvious to an accomplished wizard like, again, Albus Dumbledore that her appearance had been glamoured. The only reason why Doge hadn't been able to tell instantly that her appearance wasn't truthful, was because of the amount of Firewhiskey he had already consumed by the time she had sat herself down at his table. After she was finally finished modifying the memory, if one were to look at from a third party view, they would just see a fan of Elphias Doge's book come over, buy him a drink and have a conversation about his book and the interesting points, before the fan became embarrassed at his level of intoxication and left him in the capable hands of the Three Broomsticks employees.

All she had to do once leaving Doge's mind was act in the exact same way as she had suggested she had done in the memory.

Cassie carefully removed herself from the modified memory, stitched the golden string back up to the previous and future blue bubbled orbs that came before it and followed it. She waited a few moments to see if there was an unwanted or negative reaction from Doge's mind caused by her spellwork, and when there wasn't she sighed in relief.

It was with incredible delicacy that Cassie removed herself fully from his mind, feeling the usual dulled sense of self as she felt herself be pulled back into her own mind and the ever-so-slight nauseated lightheadedness that came with the of separation of yourself from someone else's memory that you had spent more than five minutes in. She felt faint as she slowly hauled herself back up through the ice-cold sea water, pulled herself up out of the hole in the thick ice sheet, and felt herself come back to her own body.

When she came to, her forearm was aching and throbbing in heavy bursts from holding it up for too long, matching with her rapidly beating heart, and Doge's forehead held a dent from where her wand tip had been pressed against it. Since she had entered his mind, around half and hour had passed and luckily in that timeframe no more patrons nor employees had made their way up to the second floor of the Three Broomsticks, because that would have been very hard for her to explain.

With her presence in his head, his own consciousness was forced to take a backseat so that she could have complete control over his mind in order to tamper with his memories. If she hadn't had complete control, then it could have had disastrous affects for both her own mind and his. So, with his own conscious mind sitting back and allowing someone else to take the reins, Doge had allowed unconsciousness to take over, or in more layman's terms, had fainted. His right cheek was smushed up against the wooden table and his mouth was dangling precariously open with slight drool running from the corner of his mouth to the table, dripping all over.

 _Disgusting_ , Cassie thought as she picked up his wand from next to her on the table and placed it in his pocket. When he wakes up, tomorrow morning most likely, he should remember nothing out of the ordinary of their conversation other than it being a night of too much Firewhiskey, that would probably put him off of the drink for a while. All in all, a good thing in the end for him.

Cassie stood from her seat, swaying to the right slightly, before rooting herself to the spot with a firm hand on the back of her chair.

Perhaps entering someone's mind for a while after so many years of not doing even the slightest exercise of her own was a misevaluated action. Not that she regretted it, and not that she did anything _wrong_ , per se, but now she would not be strong enough to apparate where she wanted to go next, which was always irritating.

So, instead, Cassie took careful steps towards the staircase (not before walking over to the table where the teenage boys had been earlier and taking the loose change that they had left as tips), and with her hand on the banister in a sturdy grip, she made her way down the steps as slowly as she could. Although much less than before, there were still some people around the inn, but many of the patrons who had previously been rowdy were now sat at empty tables or leaning against one another tiredly. Well, she supposed, it had been a long night for them all. And herself.

She meticulously took slow steps towards the large fireplace in the back of the first floor and when she finally reached it, she dropped one of the galleons she had picked up from the table into a jar filled almost to the brim with silver, bronze and golden coins, before taking a large handful of floo powder from a pot that appeared out of thin air almost as soon as it had recognised that she had paid to use the floo.

Cassie threw the powder into the fireplace, the fiery red flames immediately turning an emerald green, and she stepped inside.

Contemplating only for a moment whether or not she actually wanted to do this and ask for his help, she finally shook her head and decided. Arcturus had even said that the man was available for aid in her mission. This was to be expected; although that final thought did nothing to push her to choose this option.

She closed her eyes, gripped her wand tighly and willed the nauseousness in her mind to go away as she yelled out, "Nigellus Mansion!"


	6. Recognition of a Warrior

**29th of December 1981**   
**Svart Slott, Oslo, Norway**

"Master Black! Master Black, _please_ , Tippy is not knowing what to do if Master Black doesn't wake up! Mistress Cassie tells Tippy to do a good job of caring for Master Black, but if Master Black does not wake up then Tippy has done a bad job! A very bad job, indeed!"

Sirius groaned at the squeaky, squealing voice howling into his left ear and with great effort peeled his eyes open to reveal the all too familiar white patterned ceiling for the third time. If he had his wand - or any wand, really - his first thought was that he would fire a bombarda right at it and smash a hole through those motionless birds.

His eyes fell out of focus randomly and his vision blurred for a moment, but a consistent poking at his shoulder forced him to blink the haziness away and turn his head to the side, ignoring the pointless irritation he felt towards the ceiling.

For now.

When he turned, neck creaking with the effort, he was met with the face of a house-elf two centimetres from his own; bright, bugging blue eyes the size of tennis balls stared into his own dull grey, and enormous bat-like ears flopped as they were being tugged and twisted at nervously by diminutive, dainty fingers. Small puffs of breath were exhaled onto his face and Sirius closed his eyes again so as to not dry them out.

"Hello?" Sirius rasped, his voice scratchy and weak and he inwardly scowled at the sound of it. The elf wailed loudly again, and though this time the noise wasn't directed straight into his eardrum, it was just as jarring as before.

"Master Black! Master Black, Tippy thanks you! Master Black is awakening and Mistress Cassie will be ever so pleased with Tippy!" The elf, who Sirius was assuming was called _Tippy_ , sobbed again.

"That's... that's... you're welcome." He finished eventually, risking a peek between a small gap in his eyelashes to find that the elf was staring down at him, positively shining with elation. Sirius opened his eyes warily and cleared his throat, wincing at the sensitivity; it felt as if, while he'd been sleeping, someone had used a knife and sliced down his larynx before performing a shabby healing charm afterwards. "Do you... _would_ _you_ tell me what time it is? Please?"

Tippy's flapping ears shook rapidly as he nodded, eager to please. "The time is being eleven o'clock pm, Master Black! Master Black slept for a very long time, yes he did."

Eleven? What time had it been when he woke up the first time? "How long is 'very long', erm... _Tippy_?"

If possible, at the sound of his name, Tippy's beam grew wider and displayed his full set of thirty-eight teeth. Had Sirius felt the sudden desire to count them all, he could have done so considering the lack of personal space the elf had; their noses were almost pressed together and the electric blue of his eyes bore into Sirius' own earnestly.

"Lots and lots of hours, Master Black. Lots and lots." said Tippy, simply. Sirius watched with slight interest, and much more suspicion, as the elf then turned on his heel and skipped over to the wicker bench that sat at the end of the king sized bed. Into his small arms he gathered a pile of clothing and some other knickknacks, as well as a thick wooden box that looked to be engraved with writing which was too far away for Sirius to read.

Tippy turned back to face him and bounded back over to his bedside. Sirius resisted the urge to move away as the elf invaded his personal bubble once again and instead occupied himself with looking over the items.

When Tippy placed them on the bed, Sirius got a good look at the clothes; a dark grey cable knit jumper, black crew-neck t-shirt and khaki trousers. There were soft socks tucked into some navy moccasin slippers he had missed before and a pair of underwear. He decided to forgo inquiring how the elf knew his size and resisted the urge to lift the jumper up to his nose to inhale the scent of the fabric. It wouldn't smell like anything he wanted it to; _biscuits and chocolate frogs, lavender and a citrus perfume, broomstick polish and treacle tarts_ and not smelling it could give him that sense of plausible deniability he was craving.

Distracting himself, he continued to pursue the rest of the items Tippy had let fall onto the bed, but did pull the jumper onto his lap, hugging it close against his body. There were a pair of leather gloves, a woollen beanie hat, a backpack and an empty water bottle. There was also a small keyring that read 'Norway' and he recognised it from one of the many tourist huts he had passed on his way to Svart Slott.

For the first time in a long while, warmth curled at his stomach and he looked up at Tippy, mirth fizzing in his eyes.

"Kicking me out already, Tippy?"

Despite his evident amused tone, Tippy looked distraught. "No, Master Black! Tippy would never, _ever,_ dream of doing such a thing! Master Black is good and kind and-"

Huffing a laugh, Sirius rolled his eyes. "I was joking." Then he paused. "Call me Sirius."

The elf gave him a stern look and Sirius' lips twitched. "Master Black is not funny."

"I think I'm funny." Before Tippy could dispute his claim, Sirius quickly pointed out the box in his hands. "What's that?"

"Mistress Cassie gave Tippy the box to give to Master Black, but Mistress Cassie is not telling Tippy what is inside."

"Sirius, Tippy. Call me Sirius." There was a short moment of silence before Sirius held out his hand, palm open and waiting. Tippy looked hesitant, but relented when he wiggled his fingers impatiently. The box was cool to the touch, though it seemed to radiate a kind of pulsating warmth from inside.

Then it hit him.

Looking at the box in his hand, Sirius wasn't sure how he hadn't recognised it on sight by the wood alone. It was marbled cocobolo with dark and smooth groves carved into it in delicate swirls. Along one of the carvings were the words that had both haunted his existence and given him reason to live.

_Que Notre Magie et Notre Sang Soient Toujours Purs._

May Our Magic and Blood Be Always Pure.

It had been the family motto in the early days of House Black, later shortened to just _Toujours Purs,_ however all heirlooms from the original House members were engraved with the full motto. Sirius had always preferred the entire adage to the abridged version; it suggested to him that the earlier members of their House didn't care so much for blood, or perhaps that they cared more about harbouring magic.

The nine words twirled around the very centre carving, following the line up through the wood and finally stopping on a small unlocked latch. Sirius ignored the way that Tippy had turned his back on him; he knew it was a sign of respect. When a wizard was handling magics unknown to his elf, that elf was to show submission in their own individual way. By allowing Sirius to see his back, Tippy was vulnerable and weakened. Not that Sirius would ever attack Tippy, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

He ran his thumb up through the curve, debating in his mind, before landing on the latch and fiddling with it.

He knew what the box contained, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to see if any of them accepted him. His own would have been snapped the moment Hit-Wizards arrived on the scene all those months ago in that Muggle village after his confrontation with Peter.

Although, if his Aunt Cassie, who was no doubt the one who had chosen this selection in particular for him, thought that he should make use of one of them, then he should. Sirius was not stupid; he knew the gifting of the clothes was to comfort him and make him feel safe and that the bag and keyring and water bottle was to make it seem like he could leave the castle if he wanted to, to give him that sense of freedom he'd lacked over the last three months. The addition of this box was not a surprise as he knew that in Cassie's position he would do the same, but it made the situation he was in all the more real.

All the more... well, _serious._

His first wand had been snapped and then thrown into a furnace at the Ministry; there was no doubt about that.

When training to become a Hit-Wizard, one of the first lessons you're taught is to subdue any threat before it happens. If it had been Sirius apparating onto a scene like the one in that Muggle village, he would have snapped his wand too. So, with this knowledge, he was confident that his wand was no longer available to him.

His wand had been the only wand he had ever used, other than James' or Remus' for the odd prank or two in school. His 9½", dragon heartstring, red oak wand that Ollivander had called a 'powerhouse weapon'. Perfect for transfiguration, duelling and charms. It had served him well in the war; casted household charms with the same ease it did curses.

Using another would not feel the same, he knew.

But it was better to have one than not.

He flicked his thumb up, the latch following the movement and the box lifted open of its own accord from the centre carving.

Inside was a sea of deep blue velvet, each crevice and cranny filled with effortlessly fluid rich fabric, making it seem more abyssal than it actually was. Sirius was surprised by the heavy pulse of magic he could feel reverberating from the inside of the box, perhaps there was a concealment charm on the outside to prevent the chance of robbery or another person not of House Black trying to access the prizes inside.

Not that Sirius would regard these particular items prizes, considering their previous owners.

There were five holds inside, each labelled with a bronze plaque that read a name and date underneath. Two were empty, indicating the owners of them were still alive and in need of them, but the other three were full, indicating their owners were deceased.

Sirius stared down at the familiar names; eyes expressionless.

_Arcturus Black III (1901-)  
_

_Lycoris Black (1904-1965)_

_Regulus Black I (1906-1959)  
_

_Pollux Black (1912-)_

_Orion Black (1929-1979)_

Two of the deceased were recognisable to him; his great Uncle Regulus Black I, and his father Orion Black. Both men died before 1980, and both the same way; by choking on their food. It was fitting in a way, Sirius thought, seeing as the two men had been vicious and disgusting in their purebloodean world domination spiel and had died in such a mundane way.

Pollux and Arcturus were still alive, as their dates and the absence of their wands showed, but Sirius didn't know much about the last man. Lycoris Black.

Actually, he knew nothing at all.

He'd never heard his name mentioned before, never met him, never even seen his face on the tapestry back at Grimmauld Place. Though, as Sirius thought now, the absence of Lycoris' name throughout his childhood spoke well of the man, whoever he was. If you were at all mentioned by Walburga and Orion Black it was either due to your views on Muggleborns and Purebloods as a culture and how you despised all who were not 'pure', or because you had abandoned your family and your House and were spoken about in shame by everyone. And since Sirius had never heard of Lycoris Black in either situation, it made Sirius wonder what he had done to be so... unspoken of.

Perhaps he had been disowned; when Andromeda and Sirius had been disowned by their parents, their names had been banned from being uttered in their individual households.

Pushing the thought of the unknown man out of his mind for now, Sirius stared down at the wands that sat in their velvet casings. Even without the name indicating whose wand was whose underneath, Sirius recognised his father's on sight.

Orion Black's wand had been powerful and terrifying, just as the man himself had been. Ebony wood with a dragon heartstring core.

Sirius stared at it and tried to block out the deafening, muted screams that flowed through his mind. He couldn't count the amount of times this very wand had been pointed at him, tip first and glowing with a promise of injury.

It was jet-black and bared an impressive appearance; a square-like handle with magical runes depicted along the wand that Sirius couldn't decipher (Remus and Lily were the only ones out of the lot of them who took Ancient Runes in their third year and Sirius had always fallen asleep whenever either of them tried to explain some to him). He could almost feel the power thrumming off of it, but knew it wasn't right for him. Of course, as little he knew about Wandlore, he did know that you probably had to hold a wand in your hand first before you decided, but Sirius quickly moved on to the next one.

He would rather go without a wand than hold his father's in his hand, than make use of the same weapon his father used on him.

The next was Regulus Black's; his dead brother's namesake, just like Sirius Black I was his own namesake.

Sirius ran a finger down the wood, not feeling anything wrong with it per se, just perhaps an odd feel about the wand. It could be an Elm, Sirius considered. It looked a similar colour to other Elm wands he had seen in the past, and during the time period that Regulus Black I would have received his wand, it had been believed that only purebloods could wield an Elm wand.

Sirius picked it up and squeezed it in his palm. There was a warmth there, it felt comfortable and pleasant. However, Sirius recalled how it had felt holding his wand in his hand for the first time; he had felt an electric heat and seen the sparks fly out of the end of the wand. Of course, he wasn't expecting sparks to shoot out of any wand he tried as an adult now as he was much more in control of his magic and wasn't prone to dramatic outbursts. But he did think that it was crucial for him to feel like the wand he was using _belonged_ to him.

He gently placed the suspected Elm wand back into its hold; despite not liking his great Uncle personally, the wand had done nothing to offend Sirius itself.

Finally, he moved onto the last wand. A feeling like anticipation built up in his stomach as he stared down at it.

A blackthorn wood; that was obvious in the colour and the way the wood was layered.

Blackthorn wands had a reputation, and despite knowing to not judge a hag before you saw under the hood, Sirius couldn't help himself.

Blackthorn's were mostly wands owned by warriors; which didn't necessarily mean someone who practiced the Dark Arts, because many Aurors and Hit-Wizards he'd known during his time with the Ministry in the midst of the war had cast with them. But so had many Death Eaters. He knew he shouldn't prejudice, after all there had got to be at least one Death Eater out there with a...a dogwood wand, right? Just like there had been Gideon and Fabian Prewett with dogwood wands.

As Sirius hovered his hand over the wand, gearing himself up to take it, he thought back to an unassuming man, a _friend_ even. A friend who'd owned a chestnut wand, of all things. Known for having owners who were gifted in herbology and almost Hufflepuffian traits.

And he had been the worst of all of them.

Sirius shook his head back and forth and decided to push the prejudice out of his mind. It was just a wand - hadn't that been what he had said to himself about Regulus Black I's wand? But there it was again, that wispy voice in the back of his mind.

_The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Black._

And what did he know about Lycoris Black anyhow? If he had been a Dark Wizard, surely Sirius would've heard of him by now. His parents obviously hadn't been fans, the man hadn't married nor had he sired any kids because then there would be a line on the family tapestry.

But apparently he had been what this wand classed as a 'warrior'. Blackthorn wands were known to be prickly in their choices; very selective. Before the war it had been classed as an honour to be chosen by a blackthorn, but after duelling so many Death Eaters and magicals who had dabbled in the Dark Arts with blackthorn wands by their side, it was now almost a taboo.

What did it say about you if a tainted wand _chose_ you?

Did the wand class Sirius as a warrior? He had fought during a war, faced prejudice all his life because of his name and family, pushed the boundaries of his own magical core to the extreme. Did that make him a warrior?

Did he _want_ to be a warrior?

When Sirius' fingers finally made tentative contact with the wand, a set of bright and blazing golden sparks barrelled out of the end of it, causing the bedsheets beneath him to burst into flames.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius sensed Tippy whirl around and vaguely heard him screech at an earsplitting volume about "Bad Masters" and "Mistress' bedsheets" and "Disobedient weapons", but he couldn't bring himself to care as he stared down at the blackthorn wand which had once belonged to his unknown ancestor.

It seemed that it deemed Sirius to be enough of a warrior to accept him as its owner.

Unbeknownst to him, a mad grin stretched across his face.

And fuck if that wasn't a confidence boost.

* * *

**29th of December 1981**   
**Nigellus Mansion, North Oxfordshire**

Cassie tried her best to not stumble as she fell forward out of the fireplace and into the entrance hall of Nigellus Mansion. A difficult feat considering her heels, which had been transfigured from kitten into a pair of purple ankle strap's to fit with her glamoured persona, and her dizziness due to her time spent in Doge's mind.

Looking around the entrance hall, Cassie had to fight to hide her grimace; she'd always hated this old mansion. Four fireplaces lined the far wall opposite the open archways that led into the mansion, on the floor was an ornate carpet sitting atop dark mahogany wood. There was atrociously outdated wallpaper to match the rug and every three metres a lantern was hung from said wallpaper, these lanterns would light automatically when they sensed a persons arrival into their vicinity.

The word irritating didn't cover her feelings about those godforsaken lanterns. They made sneaking around completely impossible and from the footsteps that she could hear echoing down through one of the archways that led off of the entrance hall, they were about to give her away before she could right herself completely by accessing their potions store and downing a rejuvenation potion.

"Who's there!?" Cassie winced at her sister-in-law's shriek and held out her hand to steady herself against the fireplace as another dizzy spell took hold. "I'm warning you, I'm famously known for my unforgivables!"

"Merlin above, Irma, is that really something you should be boasting about to unknown people in your home?"

The footsteps stopped and a smirk pulled at the corners of Cassie's mouth despite her sudden lightheadedness. She heard a small curse, a clearing of a throat and then Irma Black, nee Crabbe, finally rounded the corner wearing her signature sneer.

Irma paused just inside of the archway, her wand was clenched tightly in her hand and although she teased her for announcing it in such a manner, Cassie knew that Irma Black _was_ infamous for her unforgivable's in the same way Melania was for her cutting curses. "If you are anyone but Cassiopeia Black underneath that disguise you will be on the receiving end of a crucio."

"What a warm welcome." Cassie tilted her head to the side, considering the other woman. "You look nice."

In her cream camisole with purple hair rollers and smudged mascara, Irma did not look nice and judging by the narrowing of her eyes, she knew it. Confirmation of Cassie's identity flared like fire in her brown eyes and the sneer on her lips curled into something that exhibited a depth of hatred.

Irma stalked through the archway, clutching her wand so tightly as though wishing it were Cassie's neck. "When you get notified by your husband in the middle of the night that someone has broken into your home and then pushed out of your bed and onto the floor _and_ your house-elf doesn't answer when you call her, then you may talk about my appearance, Cassiopeia."

"I'm not judging, Irma. I feel it reflects your personality well."

"If I were a lesser woman I would curse you." Irma hissed and Cassie bit back a smile.

Cassie removed her hand from the fireplace and straightened up. The other woman's dark eyes latched onto this action and her brows furrowed. "I thought we'd covered this, you _are_ a less woman. By the way, I was not _breaking in_."

Irma's face smoothed out and she scoffed, stopping five feet in front of Cassie. "And how was I to know? An unauthorised floo into my home in the middle of the night? Pollux nearly had a heart attack."

"From the shock or the endless cigars and bacon grease?"

"Would it matter?"

"That's rather the pot calling the cauldron black, sister, seeing as on a good day you yourself could resemble a chimney."

Both women startled at the sound and turned to glare simultaneously at Pollux who had just entered from behind Irma.

Cassie took a deep breath to settle her drifting mind and let her eyes drift over her brother.

Despite being eleven years his junior, Pollux looked much how Arcturus should at his age, with his lanky frame and quiet sort of grace and poise that spoke of their mother's thorough lessons of decorum in their childhood. Smoothly bald, with a neatly kept beard of light grey, he was not strikingly handsome as men of House Black were known to be; his hollow cheeks and low brows were a significant nod to his lifetime of concerns for his two sons and daughter (Cygnus, Alphard and Walburga), but a somewhat redeeming quality were his keen, sparkling grey eyes that warned intelligence and wit were never far from the surface.

Instead of his usual black suit with a pinstriped waistcoat, he was dressed in emerald green silk pyjamas, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbow and in his hand was his wand, held loftily but Cassie knew he could strike like a snake when least expected.

Perhaps they _had_ actually thought someone would dare to break into Nigellus Mansion.

Despite public opinion, their trio of siblings had never been close. Pollux was a few years her senior, with Dorea bringing up the rear five years after her birth and of course between herself and her little sister there had been Marius; that was an incident in which was not to be discussed or thought about, or so fifteen year old Pollux, twelve year old Cassiopeia and seven year old Dorea had decided all those years ago after finding their squib brother's deceased body bobbing in the lake at the bottom of the gardens at Ophiuchus Hall.

Morbid, but a decision that had not been taken lightly.

Due to their differences in age, the three of them had never been friends.

Pollux had always his own merry band of pureblood boys, even from birth when their parents had pushed them all together, and by the time Cassie arrived at Hogwarts she had already created a name for herself which separated her from her older brother. By the time Dorea had stepped onto Hogwarts grounds and was sorted in Slytherin, Pollux had graduated and gone on to shadow their father in his political duties, Cassie was fifth-year prefect with a perfect record and questionable rule over their House and despite their obvious lacklustre relationships, the media had chosen to portray the three of them as 'best friends'.

It wasn't until Dark Forces began to arise in support of Grindelwald in the 30's and Dorea firmly placed herself as a neutral witch by becoming betrothed to Heir Charlus Potter of House Potter, Cassie up and moved out of Ophiuchus Hall without informing her family members and Pollux took a stance with his father, who was desperate to become a headstrong player in these purebloodean politics, that publications realised they were not a _close-knit group of three who stood side-by-side through anything and everything_.

Apparently it had come as quite a shock to them all, and spoke volumes of how well House Black managed to keep a lid on family affairs.

Cassie raised a brow and Pollux entered the room further, coming to stop in line with his wife. "And good evening to you as well, brother. Is this how we greet each other now - in our nightwear?"

"I could say the same to you; why is it that you are wearing a terribly applied glamour?" His voice was croaky and raw; either from being forcibly awakened or from old age. A mixture of both, she thought.

Irma snorted. "And shoes that belong on the feet of a woman thirty years younger."

Pollux sighed deeply, resigned, as Cassie bristled opposite them both. "Irma, dear-"

"Don't patronise me, Pollux. Your sister has broken into - _yes, broken into, Cassiopeia_ \- our home in the middle of the night wearing a glamour and started insulting me the second she could."

Cassie lifted her eyebrows innocently as her brother stared at her accusingly. "I can't help myself. It's a compulsory action."

"A disorder, perhaps? Wouldn't surprise me; let's add it to the list."

"Ladies, please-" Pollux tried again, though not very hard as even he knew it was to no avail. Even before he and his wife had been betrothed, Cassie and Irma had clashed from the second they met, which meant he was used to their biting insults.

"Pollux, _silence_." Irma snapped. Pollux's mouth shut instantly.

"Yes, Pollux, do be quiet so that we can hear your wife list off all of my _disorders_ , shall we?" Cassie turned to Irma, her grey eyes like daggers in the low, warm light from the lanterns. "Do we need to give you a moment to find the parchment you've no doubt written them all down on?"

Irma gave an airy, extremely fake laugh and waved her hand superciliously. "Oh no, don't be silly, dear. I have no need to waste parchment like that; I take one look at you and they all come rushing back to me."

Cassie crossed her arms stubbornly, though it was more because it aided her wavering balance than anything else. "Rather sounds like old age is getting to you. Forgetfulness is the first sight of becoming an old women, Irma, though looking at your neck I would say that wrinkles were."

Irma's eyes widened, her free hand rose of its own accord to her neck before she came back to herself and dropped it back down to her side. Her eyes sparked with hatred. "Suppose I was becoming an elderly woman, it would be the perfect time for me to forget about a little House rule, would it not?" Irma raised her wand and before Cassie could snap out a response or bring up her own in defence, Pollux stepped into the space between them both.

His eyebrows were pulled down into what she supposed he thought was a stern expression. It really only made him look like he was having issues digesting something. "Ladies, can we not? It is almost midnight and I have a meeting with Gregory tomorrow."

Cassie's lips pulled into a sneer. "Goyle? Why in Merlin's name are you meeting with him?"

Pollux looked slightly uncomfortable then, his eyes shifting towards his wife and then back to Cassie. Irma scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I'm going back to sleep. Cassiopeia, next time do use the door."

"I'm not vowing anything." Cassie sniped back and both her and Pollux watched Irma shoot her a glare before turning on her heel and walking out, calling out for a house elf as she went.

They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound being Irma's disappearing footsteps and echoing shouts for her elf, before Pollux cleared his throat. Cassie raised a brow inquiringly. "Well?"

Pollux slid his wand into his pyjama pocket and clasped his hands in front of him. "Arcturus has asked me to look into members of the ICW-"

"Goyle is not in the ICW." Cassie said quickly. Pollux glared at her for the interruption. "Merlin help us all if he were. Mind of a donkey."

"Gregory might not be, but remind yourself of who his allies are, Cassie."

She took a moment, thinking deeply, before the wand lit. "Selwyn."

Pollux inclined his head. "Stewart Selwyn."

"So, what? You're meeting with Goyle to get in a good word with Selwyn?"

"Precisely. Once I have an in with Stewart, I will go back to Arcturus with information concerning his pull within the ICW." He sighed. "Though with Dumbledore in charge I doubt there is very much."

"Well," Cassie said, a mischievous tilt to her voice and Pollux recognised it instantly, and leant in with his eyebrows raised, "Dumbledore might soon be losing his chair."

Pollux pulled his hand out of his pocket and gripped onto her forearm, nails breaking skin with his desperation to be brought into the loop. "Tell me everything."

"I'll do you one better, you can join me on my quest if you answer me one question.; what do you know of a woman by the name Arabella Figg?"

* * *

**29th of December 1981**   
**Svart Slott, Oslo, Norway**

"Tippy - _no_ , I don't need - damned elf - sorry - no-"

Tippy shoved the metal spoon further against Sirius' pressed together lips stubbornly. "Master Black is ill. Tippy takes care of Master Black as Mistress Cassie told Tippy to and then Master Black will get better."

Sirius clenched his jaw and twisted his neck to the side to avoid another attack with the spoon. In his hand was the blackthorn wand, he hadn't let go of it even when Tippy had tried to rip the 'bad weapon' from his grip. "First of all, it's _Sirius_. Call me _Sirius_. And second of all, I don't need to be fed like a baby-"

"Master Black will do what Tippy tells him to do."

"I'm _your_ master, Tippy! You're supposed to do what _I_ tell you to, not the other way around."

Tippy shrugged and tried again with the spoon. "Mistress Cassie tells Tippy to take care of Master Black, so Tippy does."

"You call me _Master_ Black. What is that if not my title over you - a nickname?"

"Master Black is being rude."

Sirius held up his hands innocently. "No, no. Not rude. I'm being... argumentative."

Tippy shoved the spoon right up against his mouth and Sirius grumbled in protest. "Tippy knows that Master Black thinks he knows best, but Master Black should listen to Tippy. Tippy knows best."

"Yes, I'm sure you _think_ -"

Suddenly, the spoon was no longer near his mouth and Sirius blinked in surprise.

Tippy was stood slightly away from him on the bed, a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup in one hand and the dreaded spoon in the other. His face was pulled down and his already large eyes stretched even wider and were rapidly filling with tears. "Tippy has cared for Master Black for hours and hours and hours, feeding Master Black potions and drinks and food and washing Master Black and pulling sharp things away from Master Black and cleaning up hair from Master Black's body and healing Master Black's cuts and making sure that Master Black does not light himself on fire, and Master Black is unhappy. Tippy has failed Mistress Cassie!" The elf wailed and Sirius' eyes widened.

He shot forward in bed, ignoring the pain shooting through his empty stomach at the sudden movement. "No, no Tippy! I'm very happy, extremely happy, even. I've never been happier-"

"Master Black is mad at Tippy!" Tippy howled, some of the tears that had been swimming in his eyes slipped down his face. Sirius winced and held up his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture.

"I could never be mad at you Tippy! You're too good of an elf."

Tippy stopped crying and stared at Sirius unnervingly. "Tippy is a good elf?"

"Yes," Sirius sighed in relief and leant back against his pillows, clenching the wand tightly in his hand as the elf went through emotions in the blink of an eye, "you are. Really top notch."

As though the meltdown hadn't happened, Tippy made a happy noise and instantly began his attack once again with the spoon, catching Sirius off guard. He squirmed uncomfortably as he felt the hot soup travel down his throat and into his stomach. Tippy levitated the bowl of soup haphazardly next to him and held Sirius' mouth open with his free hand as the other forced more soup down Sirius' unwilling throat.

"Tippy is a good elf. Master Black is a good Master." Tippy called out over Sirius' displeased groans.

House elves were too unnaturally strong, Sirius decided unhappily as his stomach rumbled, opposing the food that was entering his stomach after a long time without any.

* * *

**29th of December 1981**   
**Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

"You're sure she lives _here_?"

Pollux lifted his eyes to the darkened sky once again as Cassie repeated her doubt in his abilities for what had to be the fifth time. "Yes. Arabella Figg lives at Number Twelve."

"And how did you find this information out so quickly?"

"My contacts must be better than yours."

Cassie scowled at him and he ignored her, making sure to pick the correct house they were calling on. "Let's bear in mind I haven't lived in Britain for a while, yes?"

"That is no excuse."

"I think you will find it is a verifiable excuse, actually Pollux."

Pollux hummed, eyes flickering over each number of the houses that lined Privet Drive. Cassie rolled her eyes and pulled out her wand, casting a silencing charm on the heels of her shoes as she was beginning to get irritated by the _click clack_ of her heels on the road.

Pollux's eyes caught the spell and dragged her wand arm down, hissing in disapproval. "This is a _Muggle neighbourhood_ , Cassiopeia."

Cassie narrowed her eyes at his hand on her arm and he sighed, but released her arm. "I'm aware of the nature of the occupants of Privet Drive, Pollux. I'm not dim."

"Debatable, clearly." He ignored his sister's derogatory mutterings under her breath next to him as he spotted a shiny bronze number twelve sitting next to a white painted door a few houses down from where they were now. "There," he said, motioning toward the house with his hand and Cassie's grey eyes seemed to spark to life as she picked up her pace and walked with silent heels towards the house.

Pollux moved quickly to keep up and lowered his voice as they approached. "Why are you and Arcturus so desperate to speak to this squib?"

"She's a squib?" Cassie's steps didn't falter as she asked and Pollux's brows furrowed.

"Yes. She was married to Abraham Figg, a wizard who used to work with Dumbledore at the Ministry."

"Was?"

"He was killed in an accident at Appleby Market a few years ago."

"Accident, you say."

He sighed. "Death Eater attack, most likely. But his death is registered as an accident in the records."

"I'm assuming she is in Dumbledore's pocket for some reason." Cassie sneered at him, "Did your _contacts_ tell you why?"

Looking smug, Pollux nodded. Cassie rolled her eyes and focused back on the house. "Squibs cannot access vaults at Gringotts so we can only assume she had a friend in high places help her receive her deceased husband's gold; Albus Dumbledore I'm assuming." His mouth lifted at the sides and Cassie shot him a suspicious look as she stepped up the curb and he relented. "She runs a kneazle business."

"Morgana help us." Cassie sighed as they passed over the boundaries of the house. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and she couldn't sense any wards as they walked up the front path, the grass could do with a water but nothing else. Though it was dark so all she could do was trust her instincts and not rely on her sight.

"I don't know, perhaps the two of you could bond. You still have your way with the creatures, yes?"

" _Silence_ , Pollux."

They stopped in front of the door and Cassie pulled out her wand, casting a small glamour over Pollux to shake his facial features slightly and fixed her own. She had never met Arabella Figg so the woman wouldn't know what she looked like, but Pollux was very often photographed in political magazines and it would take an idiot to not recognise her next to her brother, they shared too many House Black attributes.

Her brother's eyes shifted from grey to green as they shone with mirth at her displeasure at him finding a comparison between herself and Figg.

Cassie shot him a stern look from the corner of her eye even as she plastered a smile on her face. "Knock."

As Pollux lifted his hand, he spoke to her quietly out of the side of his mouth. "I suppose you won't tell me what we are doing here until it's done?"

"You suppose correctly."

He humphed and rapped his knuckled thrice against the window panes that sat embedded in the door.


	7. Pollux Black's Disapproval

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it's been such a long time. I've sort of been in a rut so I guess enjoy watching me try and dig myself out of it. 
> 
> Hope you're all doing as well as you can with the pandemic, let me know how you're faring. 
> 
> Thanks for all the love on this while I've been away. It makes me smile, which is nice.

**29th of December 1981  
** **Black Manor, Angus, Scotland**

'- _apologies once again, my friend. I'm sorry there is not anything more I can offer to you and your House with this particular dilemma. Allow me to provide my services in another way and I shall-_ '

Arcturus' brow furrowed with contempt and he let the letter slip from his aged hand without a second glance. It drifted down, caught on a non-existent breeze, to join four others on the floor, each containing the same snivelling apologies and imploring him to take on their House's meaningless offers of aid in another way.

Useless.

It seemed that despite his years accumulating numerous allies and tentatively trustworthy companions, he could still rely only on himself.

Though, he mused as he plucked a raven-feathered quill from a nearby bottomless inkpot, perhaps it was for the best. This specific issue that he, rather reluctantly, had requested aid for from fellow Lords and Ladies of Ancient Houses, was really an _in House_ affair. Sirius was a fugitive... well, he would be once the media and Ministry realised he was no longer in their grasp in Azkaban Fortress. And despite their rather disagreeable pasts, many of the powerful Ancient Houses were preferring to back the Aurors and Ministerial positions to bring light back upon them and better how the public perceived them.

The lack of favourable public opinion of his House (and the other two Houses under his care) was not a cardinal thought in Arcturus' mind, differing him from his fellows. Once members of the Wizarding World heard the name Black uttered, they tended to cut their ties, whether the comment in particular was positive or not. To attempt to bring light upon their name so soon after the war, where so many of their number had been caught in the act of serving under a tyrant Dark Lord, was laughable and not something that Arcturus was about to commit to.

No, instead he needed to focus on getting his grandson out of harms way and safely under the control of support of his House, whether he would have to drag Sirius kicking and screaming or not.

Arcturus shook out his wrist, an elegant gesture that spoke considerably of his years of etiquette tutoring, and brought the tip of the handsomely feathered quill to a blank sheet of parchment sat on his desk before him.

He paused and considered his thoughts, before sighing to himself and gently allowing the quill to fall from his fingers, falling to his desk with a careless _clatter_ and spilling a line of dark ink across the otherwise spotless fawn-coloured paper.

Settling back into his high-backed chair, he interlocked his fingers and finally consented his mind to wander from where he had been pressuring it to fixate, his dark eyes focused on the spilled ink as though it were an ink-blot test in a Medi-Wizard's office; ready to tell him all of his desires and produce a diagnosis. A cure for the unwanted thoughts.

Despite the fact that he had an indefinite belief in Cassiopeia's abilities to retrieve the Potter boy, and do so without attracting attention to herself, there was nothing he could do to prevent the slight niggling in the depths of his mind at what should happen were she to be found out, were they _both_ to be found out.

Which was exactly why he had mentioned Pollux's name when informing her of her quest. If her fierce glare and fixed scowl had demonstrated anything, it was that she had been unimpressed by his apparent lack of faith in her sleuthing skills, but the name drop had been necessary.

Though he had, in his younger years, made questionable choices under the influence of his father, Cygnus I, Pollux had been born and bred for politics and upon his majority, had taken to it like a fish to water.

Arcturus recalled being remarkably impressed with his nephew at his first Wizengamot meeting; he had taken him along as acting Heir of House Black and the boy, merely twenty five years of age at the time, caused a splash with his speeches and votes. Of course, with the rise of the Dark Lord and Pollux and Cygnus throwing their support behind the man blindly, Arcturus had lost respect for him, but in the more recent years, after Cygnus' _unfortunate_ death, Pollux had once again stepped up and slowly decreased the spiel of Dark Magic propaganda, bowing to Arcturus' will as Head of House Black in a way his father never did.

It had impressed him, and forced Pollux up his list of possible Heir's in the future.

A well-known fact within the Ancient Houses was that Arcturus preferred to keep his cards close to his chest.

Unlike most other Houses, he had not yet revealed who would be taking up the role of Lord Black upon his demise. Nor had he revealed the future Heads of Houses Carrow and Rosier, both of which he held Lordship of. It wasn't as though Arcturus was waiting to reveal who were the Heirs of these Ancient and Noble Houses for dramatic effect, no, he was instead making note of who in House Black would be best to take hold of each Lordship.

They were very critical decisions, after all, and decided the fate of these Houses in the future.

As his firstborn son, Orion had been first in line, despite Melania wanting him to place their true firstborn, Lucretia, as Lady Black.

However, Orion then went on to become betrothed to Walburga, already known to be a menacing women, the true amount of which Arcturus did not know until much too late. It had always irritated him how Orion assumed as Lord Black's son that he was automatically Heir and the increased levels of arrogance that followed as an effect of this only brought about more vexation, so after the wedding and the news of the birth of his first grandson, Sirius, Arcturus' thoughts moved on to Lucretia.

But then, much to both his pleasure and disappointment, she married Ignatius Prewett, and therefore became Lady Prewett and was instantly ineligible for the title of Lady Black. In his mind, the title then moved on to Pollux.

That was until he met his grandson Sirius for the first time.

Even as a child, Sirius had been infuriatingly impeccable at all challenges and opportunities that arose. It caused him to reevaluate; which then caused Orion to lash out at his son, and Pollux to distance himself indefinitely from the boy.

Looking back now, Arcturus can see where he went wrong. Openly demonstrating favour for one member of House Black over the rest caused Sirius to become a black sheep; a target. An unwilling one at that.

Orion and Walburga prevented Sirius from appearing at family meetings at Black Manor from age eight onwards, perhaps incorrectly assuming that should Arcturus not see Sirius, he would think that Orion was a perfect choice for a future Lord Black.

And then Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor House and their House divided.

Melania, Lucretia and Cassiopeia were full of support for the boy, pleased that he was not another 'carbon copy' House Black member, not showing this support openly as they acknowledged Arcturus' split mind on the matter and did not wish to influence him.

Orion, Walburga, Pollux and Cygnus had had no such qualms; informing him at every moment of Sirius misdeeds within Hogwarts, and then at home. And then informing him, rather excitedly, of his speedy departure of Grimmauld Place and sanctuary within Potter Manor.

Instead of being pleased that there was one less House Black member to consider for the Lordship as both Walburga and Orion had assumed he would be, Arcturus had been furious. The first and last time he had ever laid his hands on a member of his House was when he slapped Walburga to the ground when she arrived at Black Manor with the news that his grandson had renounced his House and fled to another. Walburga then informed him that she had announced Sirius' disownment to members of the Wizengamot without consulting him, causing Melania to curse the woman within an inch of her life, forcing Cassiopeia, who had happened to witness this all unfold, to disarm and restrain her.

After she and Orion offered up his other grandson, Regulus, as a soldier for the Dark Lord without consulting him, Arcturus banished them both to live out the rest of their lives locked away in the same place they had driven their sons from. Orion had died there, Walburga was unfortunately still living and breathing, as her batty house-elf informed him every three months by apparating into his office and driving him mad.

Of course, after Sirius renounced his name and blood, and after Dorea and Charlus Potter had elected to offer him sanctuary, Arcturus had had to move on from the thought of Sirius becoming his Heir to House Black. Instead, he prevented the thought of Heirs from taking over his mind for several years, until the more recent downfall of the Dark Lord and Pollux's final ascent from his pureblood ideologies and into the man he was today.

Which was why when Cassiopeia needed the offer of aid, he had mentioned Pollux's name. At the moment, with his grandson currently out of the running to take on the title, Pollux was his first in line for Heir of House Black, so it was crucial that he be let in on certain dealings. He had also requested that Pollux get his name in the good books of those who had in's within the International Confederation of Wizards, in advance of his plan to get Sirius in for trial there, rather than at the Wizengamot, where he was certain it would be incredibly biased.

With the knowledge that Cassiopeia had help from Pollux in her mission to retrieve the Potter child, Arcturus felt more relaxed overall; where Cassiopeia was brash and, for lack of a better word, Gryffindor-ish, Pollux was careful and precarious and would make for certain that they wouldn't get caught.

As long as they did nothing reckless, Arcturus thought to himself.

Harry Potter was an important person to have on their side. Not nearly because of his status as the ridiculously titled Boy Who Lived, but because Arcturus knew that Sirius would never place his trust in him and his House should they not have the Potter boy safely in their grasp.

* * *

**29th of December 1981**   
**Number 12, Privet Drive, Little Whinging**

Arabella Figg was quite possibly the most vexatious women Cassie had ever had the displeasure of meeting, she thought as she fought to keep the obviously-fake smile on her lips. Pollux was obviously having a troubling time keeping his own face straight, coughing for what had to be the fifth time in half an hour to hide a rather conspicuous laugh as one of the ten kneazles that Figg kept as _pets_ in her tiny Muggle home wound itself through Cassie's legs.

Figg tittered at it, waving her dainty, wrinkled hand as though that would magically get the beast off of her. "Doris, dearie, don't-"

"Doris?" Pollux asked, almost choking on the chortle that was clearly desperate to break through his lips.

Cassie did her best to hide her glare as Figg nodded happily, relaxing back into a shabby, worn-in recliner. Ah, so she wasn't too bothered about the cat irritating her guests, then, Cassie thought darkly as it purred incessantly. "After Doris Day. Sentimental Journey really is a _wonderful_ record." The woman turned away from him and smiled dopily at the cat that proceeded to dig its claws into Cassie's tights. "She seems to have taken a shine to you, Dorea."

Shooting her a grimace disguised as a short smile, Cassie nodded. "Yes, well. She is rather... _delightful_."

"Well that explains why she likes you, dear sister." Eyes narrowing at her brother, Cassie raised an eyebrow. Pollux smirked and raised one in return.

A brief glaring match occurred, during which Figg seemed to recognise that she was intruding on a private moment because she got to her feet slowly, attracting their attention from one another.

The woman gestured towards a door behind her and from what they see, they deduced it was the kitchen. "Can I get either of you a cup of tea? Perhaps even something slightly stronge-"

Cassie's eyes watered as the animal dug it's nails into her legs further until it broke skin and she quickly interrupted Figg. "No, no, thank you. Tea is fine."

"Oh, I don't know, I think I would like to-"

"Shut up!" Cassie snapped under her breath, and Pollux had to close his mouth for fear he would burst out laughing. He waved away Figg's concerned glance.

Nodding and smiling politely, evidently thinking she was the perfect hostess, Figg turned on her heel and began to busy herself in the kitchen. As soon as she rounded the corner of the door, Cassie's wand dropped into her hand from her holster and she quickly stuck it into the cat's heavy, matted fur. The beasts yelped and jumped up in the air as a short, sharp electric shot was sent into her. It seemed to turn around and glare at her before speeding away, hissing and spitting.

Pollux grabbed her arm and tried to look stern, but his twitching lips gave him away. Cassie tugged her arm out of his grip and sneered at him, eyes darting towards the kitchen, where they could hear the kettle boiling, as she shoved her wand back into her right pocket.

"The old bat is mad, we're not going to be able to get anything out of her." She said spitefully, somewhat impressed with the way the woman had unknowingly diverted their attention from their goal of talking about any friends she knew who had recently had kids, to talking about her cat business. Keeping with her cover that she used when interrogating Elphias Doge, Figg thought she was discussing two Muggle siblings, Marius and Dorea White, who were looking to adopt a cat.

"Old bat?" Pollux shook with silent laughter. "We are older than her, Cassiopeia."

Cassie's eyes narrowed at the ancient wallpaper and the terrible decor. "Physically."

Rolling his eyes to the heavens, though his eyes did rest unpleasantly on the terribly decorated lampshade, Pollux snorted at her. "How did you manage to find out her name from the people you visited previously?"

"What do you mean?" Cassie asked evasively. Suspicious, Pollux narrowed his eyes.

"You know what I mean. Arcturus would not have been able to find out her name on an off. I had nothing in my files on the woman, she only came up when I searched by name." When his sister continued to avoid meeting his eyes, he reached over and gripped her wrist in a tight hold. Cassie tugged at her arm, protesting and casting perturbed glances up to the kitchen door, but he didn't let up. "Cassiopeia; What did you do to find out this woman's name?"

His transfigured green eyes met her grey and they held eye contact for a few seconds before Cassie began to feel a feather-light touch across her Occlumency shields and she finally tore her arm out of Pollux's hand, her face downturned and furious. "Don't you _dare_ , Pollux."

Pollux held up his hands in surrender, but his eyes were still staring into hers seriously. "I apologise. But if you are not going to voluntarily tell me-"

"It was a mistake for you to try and access my memories." Cassie muttered darkly, turning away from her brother and rubbing at her wrist. "I have always bested you in the mind arts, you know this."

"Which is why I _apologise_. But, Cassie-"

Cassie held elbowed him in the side sharply and as he gasped in pain she painted a smile back on to her lips. Pollux looked up to see Figg walking back into the living room, carefully carrying two steaming mugs and a box of what appeared to be shortbread.

He shot her a look which said everything he could not and she grimaced, but hid it carefully behind her polite 'Dorea White' mask as Figg placed their drinks onto the small coffee table which sat in front of the small traditional camelback couch she had almost forced Cassie and Pollux to take once they had mentioned they were " _lo_ _oking to adopt a cat"_ and apologised for it being " _so late, only they were going out of town early in the morning and wanted to take one back to Chesterfield with them"._

"There you are; two teas." Figg croaked as she went to sit back down in her recliner. "And I had to get the shortbread out. Special occasions, you know."

Cassie gave a high pitched girlish laugh and she didn't need to look at Pollux to know that he cringed at the sound coming out of her. "Oh, I hardly think this to be a _special occasion,_ Arabella."

Smiling, Figg shook her head. "Of course it is! You're going home with one of my babies. Every adoption is a special occasion."

"Oh, well, you see, Arabella. We're not actually here to adopt one of your cats." Cassie said plainly. Figg's brow furrowed, confused, and Pollux's mouth dropped open, glaring dangerously into the side of Cassie's head.

She ignored him.

"Well, whatever do you mean, Dorea?" Figg asked, her pitch raising in question.

She seemed unnerved when Cassie paused to pick up her mug and take a sip of her cooling tea rather than answer straight away. When she saw Pollux go to say something out of the corner of her eye, Cassie stomped on his foot, heel first, causing him to curse loudly and clutch at it.

Figg flinched at the sudden loudness and continued to eye them both warily. It made sense when Cassie thought about it; the woman was a squib, unable to protect herself from magical advances and the war had only ended a few months ago. The dangers were still there, despite the fact that the rest of Wizarding Britain didn't seem to think that they were.

Cassie slowly lowered her mug back onto the coaster it had been placed on. She subtly drew her wand and hid it next to her side, aiming it towards Figg. Pollux was still tending to his foot, unable to heal whatever Cassie had done to it due to their cover as Muggles.

Sometimes, she mused, she came up with the best plans.

She gave Figg a slow, malicious smile, before swinging her right arm up quickly, and before the squib could react, a silent red light sped out of the tip of her wand, stunning her instantly.

Both she and Pollux watched with different reactions as the woman slumped back into her chair, dead to the world.

It was silent between them, until:

"Cassiopeia!"

Lifting her shoulder in a halfway shrug, Cassie stood from her spot on the couch and ventured over to Figg. "I applaud her. She was much more wary than Cuffe."

Pollux's mouth fell open in shock. It was amusing to her, to see him lose his calm almost completely. She hadn't been able to see that since they had been children. "Cuffe? You- _Cassiopeia_ , you aren't informing me that you did the same as you have just done to _Barnabas Cuffe?"_ He stared at her helplessly. " _Are you?"_

Cassie scoffed as she leant down so that she was face-to-face with the unconscious Figg. She pressed the tip of her wand into the woman's cheek, watching carefully, and when she didn't stir, she grinned happily. "Don't be ridiculous, brother."

When Pollux practically sagged in relief, still in his seat on the couch, she smirked and added, "If I had stunned Cuffe then it would make the investigating Aurors believe that the culprit has an M.O. and that is not something I want, so I would have done something completely different to Arabella Figg, here, had that been the case."

" _Investigating Aurors?"_ He squawked, face turning red and blotchy.

She waved him away as she used her thumb to pull Figg's eyelid away from her eye, allowing her to see the glassy look in her eyes that meant she was unconscious. "Oh, relax. I made sure to obliviate both him and Doge, so-"

" _Doge?"_ Pollux muttered, before seemingly coming to some sort of realisation and staring up at her back with wide eyes that were just beginning to merge back into their original grey. "Merlin above, please, _please,_ tell me you are _not_ talking about _Elphias_ Doge? Long time friend of-"

Cassie nodded. "-Albus Dumbledore." She shot him a pleased smile over her shoulder, relishing the way his face seemed to drain of colour instantly. She much preferred a pale and pasty Pollux to a red one. "Exactly. You're very quick tonight. I appreciate it. Nothing worse than having to do something and being held back by idiotic people who cannot even hold their wands the right way u-"

"What _exactly_ is that you have to do?" He asked, his voice was an interesting mix of panicked and incredibly curious. "Is this- is this what Arcturus needed you to do, or are you just doing this for... for-"

"For my own amusement?"

He glared at her and began to stand shakily from his spot on the couch, his wand dropping into his hand from where his holster was hidden up his sleeve. Cassie eyed it before turning her back on him and pulling Figg's other eyelid up to reveal the same glassy stare in the other eye. "I am trusting you to not try and incapacitate me."

Pollux scoffed, slowly rounding the back of the couch and pulling the curtains shut, despite the blinds already being closed. "I notice you said try and not _succeed_."

"Yes, well," Cassie straightened up and spied the clock which sat above the door, "If you are know for your political prowess, I am known for my spells always hitting their marks."

"I would argue that is Melania, rather than yourself." His mouth curled at the corner, looking more sure of himself as time went on. "Or perhaps even my wife." He moved back around the couch and towards her and Figg.

Cassie crossed her arms, tapping her wand against her left forearm."Please do not compare my skills to Irma's. That is insulting."

Pollux ignored her comment and stared down at Figg. Then, he looked up at Cassie with raised brows. "Well? What do you propose doing now?"

"Well, to be completely honest I had not thought that far ahead." Cassie said and she ignored Pollux as he sighed irritably. Instead, she stared down at the women and thought deeply. Then, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial which instantly attracted her brother's attention.

"What exactly is that?" He obviously noticed the lack of liquid in the vial and sighed, eyebrows furrowing and the stern look from before returning more triumphantly this time. "What used to be in that vial, Cassiopeia?"

She raised a brow. "If I tell you, will that incriminate me?"

"More like it will incriminate me." Pollux sighed and gestured to Figg, who had started to drool out of the side of her mouth. "Though I suppose since I didn't call the Aurors the moment you did... _that,_ I already have incriminated myself."

Cassie grinned and passed him the vial. She watched as he unstoppered the lid and paused before he took a deep sniff. He looked confused and then looked at her with his mouth set in a heavy frown. Cassie's grin widened. "Veritaserum. Elphias Doge is very susceptible to it."

If he had been a man of lesser title and blood, Cassie thought Pollux might have face palmed, but as it was he just looked incredibly resigned to her adventures. "Do I care to ask where you got this?"

"I don't know. Do you?" Cassie asked. Pollux took pause, before shaking his head.

He nodded to Figg. "Just get on with... whatever it is you are going to do. Actually," He stopped again, thinking, "I think I'd like to know what you're going to do before you do it. _This time_."

Instead of answering his query, Cassie just began to roll up her sleeves as Pollux watched her warily. She pressed her wand up against Figg's unconscious face, right between her eyes, and closed her own. She heard Pollux's sharp intake of breath and grinned.

"How did I know you were going to do that?"

"Great instinct."

* * *

**30th of December 1981  
Svart Slott, Oslo, Norway**

Sirius caught the book as it whizzed towards him as though he had an invisible fishing line and had given it a great tug. He placed it on the side table next to where he was sat, and twirled the blackthorn wand between his fingers just as he used to with his own.

After having Tippy force-feed him the chicken noodle soup, Sirius had somehow convinced the elf to go back to wherever the kitchens were in the castle to take a break, citing that he needed some space to breathe and let the food settle. This was somewhat true, but it was also because he felt like before he could even venture out of the bedroom he had been in since he'd come to Svart Slott, he needed to get some semblance of comfortability with the blackthorn wand.

It was going well so far; he had moved himself to the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and had taken up summoning pillows and other things from around the room. He wasn't sure how long he'd been going for, seeing as he couldn't quite master the _tempus_ charm yet, but he had a pretty good looking pile of random shit on the side table next to him. About six or seven books, all the pillows, the duvet, and other knick-knacks that had somehow made their way into his line of vision.

Sirius sighed and sank deeper into the comfortable lounge chair. Well, comfortable was a loose term, because it certainly wasn't _un_ comfortable, but it definitley was not _comfortable comfortable._ He was only really sat there because he had been in bed too long and couldn't feel his arse.

He watched the wand as he spun it around his fingers and thumb and then brought it to a stop.

He couldn't help it, couldn't deny it, anymore.

He was _bored._ Completely and utterly, mind bogglingly, _bored._

It was dull, sitting in the bedroom all day with nothing to do. Granted, he'd only been awake for a couple of hours, but still. It made him wonder what his Aunt did here everyday for however many years she'd been out here for. Thinking of his Aunt Cassie, it'd been a good couple of hours and he hadn't seen her. In fact, when he had asked Tippy when she was expected back, the elf had shrugged and said something to the effect of "Mistress does what Mistress does".

Which was very specific and helped Sirius in no way whatsoever.

He'd had around an hour where he had tried different spells but where there had came triumph that he could accomplish simple spells, like the summoning charm and a quick _lumos_ and _nox,_ came the mind numbing disappointment of the patronus charm. Not even _mind numbing,_ that was too polite of a description, he thought as he recounted the whole ordeal in his mind.

Sirius'd stood slowly from his seat, feeling an immense amount of anticipation and lifted his wand. In a great gesture, he had whirled the wand round his head and body, before flinging it forward with a massive amount of effort that had his chest screeching in pain. "Expecto Patronum!"

Instead of the blinding, dazzling version of Padfoot that he was anticipating, expecting really, all he got was a huge, silver shadow, shaped like an odd shield between him and an non-existent attacker.

So he had sat back down in his chair with a huff and had wallowed, summoning random objects and not even having the effort or magical storage to expel them away again. Sirius had already decided that he needed a challenge, because he had always done his best spellwork when in the field on a whim.

But where was he going to get a freaking _challenge_ when he couldn't leave a bedroom without feeling exhausted?

* * *

**30th of December 1981  
Number 12, Privet Drive, Little Whinging**

Pollux sighed deeply as he looked at the time on the slowly ticking clock once again.

_1:13 am_

Wonderful, he thought to himself. Irma was going to throw a fit when she realised he would not be home tonight, and he knew that she was wound up already due to a certain endlessly irritating sister of his.

Thinking of Cassiopeia, he tilted his head to look over at where she was still poised over the squib's unconscious body, her wand still pressed hard against the women's forehead which was no doubt going to leave a mark. Another thing he would have to fix.

He would never admit this to her, but he had always felt slightly jealous of his sister's skill with the mind arts; since they had been children and their father had begun to tutor them in Occlumency to protect Black family secrets from outsiders who may want to access them, Cassie had always demonstrated a prowess that neither he nor Dorea had shown. Of course, at the time it had been embarrassing, mortifying, even; a girl better at something than he was, his _sister_ no less. And of course their father had rubbed it in both his and Dorea's faces, proudly showing Cassie off any chance he got.

Dorea had shrugged it off. He had always admired that about his late sister, her ability to not give any cares in the world about what others thought of her. Pollux and Cassie had struggled with the thought of the tabloids getting ahold of their day-to-day private lives, the thought of them finding out that the infamous 'Black Siblings' weren't as close as their family portrayed them to be, but Dorea didn't care. Could not have cared less, in actuality as Pollux thought about her now.

Perhaps that explained why she married who she did. Charlus Potter, despite his pure blood, had been labelled almost his entire time at Hogwarts as a blood traitor. His status as a Gryffindor had not helped this title one bit, but never once had Pollux seen it affect him. Perhaps that was why she had run off with him.

His eyes drifted over to his other sister; the only one left now. Marius had died when they were all children, drowned in the bottom lake. Dorea had died of Dragon Pox later in life, only a few years ago. And now it was only himself and Cassiopeia left of the four of them; the Prodigy Son and Recluse Daughter, as the press had named them.

Pollux watched in silence, as Cassie's eyelids seemed to throb and her fingers would twitch every now and again.

After Hogwarts, Pollux had jumped straight into politics alongside their father, as was expected of him. Dorea went against their parents' wishes to marry Charlus Potter, but Arcturus had never done anything about that when begged to by them, which Pollux and Cassie, though neither of them would admit to the man, had always admired about him. The way he stood his ground as their father tried to get the man to punish his daughter for going against his wishes.

Cassiopeia, surprising almost everyone who had known her during her tenure at Hogwarts, went on to study as a Healer at St. Mungos, and after a few years interning, became one quite quickly with a specialism in the Mind Arts. It was a well kept secret that Cassie was an expert with mind magics; Occlumency and Legilimency in particular, and House Black did nothing better than keep family secrets. She had continued at St. Mungos for almost thirty years, working through the Dark Wizard Grindelwald's reign in Europe, but retiring as soon as rumours started up again of a new Dark Lord, more dangerous and more powerful than the last climbing to the top of the magical community in Britain.

The next thing Pollux had heard was that she had visited Dorea at Potter Manor, and then disappeared off of the face of the Earth. His father had, in his drunken rants before he died, supposed she had gone to one of the House Black holiday homes abroad.

Pollux was interested, but he was not about to ask. Because he knew that she would then inquire about his own whereabouts during the war and he didn't want to see the disappointment in her eyes.

Eyes so similar to Dorea's.

He didn't think that he could bear to see that disappointment again.

Just as he was wallowing in his own self-pity, something both his wife and Melania would slap him upside the head for, Cassie let out a sharp breath followed almost immediately by a low growl very similar to the loud snores of the many kneazles which were slumbering on the floor around them.

Pollux quickly got to his feet, moving to make sure that nothing was wrong but just as he reached the unconscious Figg and Cassie, his sister broke out of her spell, pulling her wand away from the woman's head.

Her eyes were burning a bright, _fuming_ grey, sparking with fury he had not seen in a long, long while and the tip of her wand was glowing an ominous red.

"What?" Pollux questioned rapidly. "What is it? What did you find?"

Not bothering to answer his question, she gestured angrily to the squib. "Obliviate the last hour. We were never here, Pollux. Do you understand me?"

Pollux blinked in surprise, but nodded. Quickly moving into action, he twirled his wand in the exact motion that his father had taught him and whispered, "Obliviate."

As he did so he heard Cassie's footsteps storm out of the living room and to where he could only assume was the front door. He hurriedly, but assuredly, finished the job before spinning on his heel and vanishing the two mugs of cold tea and shortcakes. It would not do for Figg to wake up and not remember why she had retrieved her 'special occasion' biscuits or why she had brought two mugs of tea out for guests she could not remember.

He heard the door unlock and then Cassie's heels clicking along what sounded like the front path of number twelve, assuming that the silencing spell had run out after their hour or so in Figg's house, Pollux quickly followed after her, aiming a silent _colloportus_ on the door behind him, locking it.

Cassie was a good few feet in front of him and moving quickly back towards the centre of Privet Drive, looking around like a mad woman, searching for something.

It did not take him long, with his much longer strides, to catch up with her and when he did, he took a strong hold of her arm and tugged her to a stop. She spun round, eyes like a spitfire. " _What?"_

Pollux blinked before sneering at her. "What do you mean, _what?_ Tell me what you saw!"

Snatching her arm out of his grip, Cassie snarled at him and whispered furiously, "Merlin above, Pollux, just let me do this, will you? _You'll know soon enough!_ Just follow me and do _exactly_ as I say."

As she bolted off yet again down the street, searching insanely back and forth for whatever it was she was desperate to find, Pollux sighed angrily before hurrying after her. For wearing those high heeled shoes, she definitley moved too fast, in his opinion.

When she finally reached around where they had apparated into before they had found Arabella Figg's house, Cassie seemed to finally find what she had been looking for as she made a sharp left and stopped right in front of a normal looking house with the number four in the same bronze font as the number twelve had been. When Pollux caught up to her, panting with exertion having not done this much _actual_ exercise for a few years, she was waving her wand out in a snake-like motion and before he could ask her what she was doing, his eyes caught a slight shimmer over the house.

 _Wards_.

"Cassie, is this a _wizards_ home?" He cast his eyes over the extremely normal looking road with disdain. Why would any magical being choose to live _here?_ Of all places?

"Do shut up, Pollux. I have to concentrate." Cassie said distractedly as she continued to wind and twist her wand over the house's wards.

"But-"

Cassie kicked his shin painfully and it took all he had to not call out and instead leant down to grab at where it began to throb and glared up at his sister who glared straight back. "If you want to help instead of being extremely irritating, help me get past these wards." She offered him what could possibly be described as an appreciative glance. "You're supposed to be good with wards, aren't you?"

Groaning with pain, Pollux straightened up, waving his wand over the wards. "Yes. I think you will find I am _good_ with most magics."

"Not mind magic."

"Do shut up, Cassiopeia. I am _trying_ to concentrate."

Instead of snarling back a reply, she simply continued examining the wards surrounding the property and Pollux took that as a sign to do the same.

It did not take him long to figure it out. Cassie wasn't wrong when she said he understood wards. He probably could not _cast_ them, seeing as that was very powerful magic and, if he was being honest, he was not capable of such feats, but he _had_ read all about them and had done some practical research at Hogwarts and at their home as children.

Cassie shot him an impatience look as he stopped. She had finished looking at the wards a few minutes previously to himself. Pollux drew himself up. "They seem to be layered. Very powerful protective wards; both layers. But they are produced by two different magical signatures. Who is _in_ there, Cassie?"

Ignoring his last query, Cassie raised an eyebrow at him. "Protective? How can we get through them?"

Pollux hummed in thought, before running his wand over the shimmery ripples that were now very obvious in the low light of the lampposts nearby. "If we _need to_ -"

"We do."

"-as long as neither of us intend to harm whatever is inside this home then we will be permitted entrance, I believe."

Cassie stood in silence for a moment, and for a second Pollux thought that meant they would not be able to go inside, before he watched her face the house again. She seemed to consider something, tilting her head to the side, before slowly stepping through the wards.

As soon as she got to the other side, her mouth split into a mad grin and she looked much too pleased with herself.

For some unknown reason, Pollux felt compelled to follow her across the boundary and he shivered as the cool tones of the wards seemed to suck him inside of the protective bubble. He followed her up the main path to the house, not stopping to even spare a glance to the flowers perfectly planted on both sides of the concrete slabs.

They stopped and stood side-by-side as Cassie reached up and knocked the door.

There was no answer. Pollux looked at her from the side of his eye. "Well, it is around half one in the morning."

Cassie seemed to accept this and knocked again.

And again.

She knocked again, and again, and _again,_ and just when Pollux was about to tell her to perhaps _stop it_ , because of how loud she was being, he heard footsteps from inside the house.

Then he saw the silhouette of someone behind the door.

The jangling sound of some keys unlocking it.

And then the door opened, and an angry, horse-faced, _clearly_ _Muggle,_ woman dressed in a dark green nightgown stood just inside the porch. When Pollux opened his mouth to greet her, the woman snapped out in a sleep-ridden, croaky voice:

"What do you want? For God's sake, it's one in the morning!"

"Good morning, Mrs Dursley." Pollux looked to his sister, who looked rather calm for someone who had been _seething_ only a moment ago. The woman, _Mrs Dursley,_ turned to face Cassie and glared strongly at her.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?"

Cassie merely smiled and Pollux felt unease tug at his heart. "My name is Cassiopeia Black, Mrs Dursley. This is my brother, Pollux."

Dursley looked at them as though they were crazy. Just as she went to say something, Cassie talked over her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, perhaps I should introduce us more clearer." She stepped forward menacingly, and the woman was so surprised that she actually stepped back, allowing Cassie, and therefore Pollux, to step just inside her door. "My name is Cassiopeia Black, and this is my brother Pollux Black." Her smile suddenly became all teeth. "And we are Harry Potter's great Aunt and Uncle. We're here to take him back to where he rightfully belongs."

Pollux choked and Dursley turned sheet white.

Cassie cackled, pulling out her wand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone know any good websites or youtube channels to watch when wanting to learn to play guitar? 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!   
> Leave comments, kudos and bookmarks if you did and what you're excited for next :)
> 
> {Thought I'd let you know: the songs I listened to on repeat while writing this were Jealous by Labrinth, Cold Hard Bitch by Jet and Closing Time by Semisonic.}


	8. Retrieval of a Martyr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry its been such a while since I last posted there's been so much crazy stuff going on recently. 
> 
> I've been working on this chapter for about a week now, and I am still not sure if I am 100% happy with it, but I figured after around two hours of fiddling with it, if I didn't post it now, I never would.
> 
> Anyone got a tips/tricks for beginner skateboarders? I want to learn and am going board shopping tomorrow. Anything would be helpful, thanks! 
> 
> Also, let me know what you think of this chapter; if it sucks, if its ok, just... let me know. Don't be afraid to be brutal!

**30th of December 1981  
Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging**

" _Petrificus totalus!"_

Both Black's watched as Petunia Dursley's limbs straightened out, locked together and with horrid fascination, stared as the disagreeable Muggle woman slowly teetered back until she hit the carpeted floor, stiff as a board.

Well, Pollux stared with horrid fascination.

Cassie on the other hand, could not have looked more pleased with the outcome, stepping inside and around Dursley's body lying in the middle of the hallway.

As she made to step forward further into the house, Pollux seemed to finally snap back into himself, lashing out and snatching at his sister's upper arm. " _Cassiopeia!_ What- _Harry Potter?!"_

Cassie lifted her eyes to the ceiling, exasperated, and tugged her arm out of his grip. "Yes, Pollux, Harry Potter is here, and we are here to collect him." She smiled meanly at him. "Congratulations, you are finally in on the plan."

Still too shocked to put his feet into action, Pollux stayed rooted in the porch and watched as his sister began to poke around the Muggle house. "You… why is he _here_ , of all places?"

Before Cassie could answer, he continued, "Were those… those measly wards his _protection_?"

"It would appear so, yes." Cassie replied, pressing her wand at a strange owl-like children's toy which rested on a shelf, her brow furrowed in confusion as it made a small squeak but didn't move.

The Dursley woman's eyes followed her and moved quickly back and forth between the wand and the woman behind her misfortune. She did not seem to be frightened of Pollux, no doubt accepting his obvious unknown participation in this plan.

A brisk gust of cold wind blew in through the open front door and caused a ripple of goosebumps to appear on Cassie's arm and an automatic shiver down her spine distracted her from further examining the Muggle hallway. She turned and frowned at the door, before waving her wand from left to right causing the door to slam shut, click to locked and, with an invisible push, forced Pollux further inside.

"Right then," Cassie said, rubbing her hands up her arms in an effort to warm up as Pollux stumbled at the new footing, still looking lost and confused about the situation. She turned to Mrs Dursley on the floor and grinned. "Tell me, _Muggle_ , where is my great nephew?"

Cassie twirled her wand in the direction of the woman's mouth and did not look surprised as she took a large breath of air and began to screech.

"HELP! HELP ME! Vern- _VERNON!_ HELP ME! FREAKS! INTRUDERS IN OUR-"

Pollux quickly waved his wand and Dursley was once again silenced. Cassie went to say something but halted when he held up a finger to his lips and pointed to the ceiling.

They stood in silence for a only a few moments before a heavy _thud_ sounded through the ceiling.

Cassie's eyes widened with glee while Pollux levelled a strong glare in her direction. "Don't you dare."

"Another accomplice reveals itself."

"Cassiopeia-"

She rolled her eyes at him, "Saying my name in that tone is not going to stop me from cursing whoever that is into a pile of slime, brother dearest."

Pollux, ignoring her, slowly brought up his wand as the footsteps upstairs got closer to the top of the staircase. There was the sound of someone clearing their throat and a gravelly, sleep ridden male voice rang out.

"Petunia? Pet, did you yell for me?"

Cassie crouched down next to Petunia's head and the woman clenched her eyes closed, a single tear escaping down the side of her cheek. "Merlin above he's useless, isn't he, _Petunia._ " If she hadn't been silenced, the woman would have whimpered as Cassie whispered delicately in her ear. "We could be serial killers, or rapists, and he would not have single clue."

"Well currently you are acting no better than one!" Pollux's furious whisper reached her ears and he crossed the room quickly, pulling Cassie back up by her arm and pinching her there. She scowled at him.

"They have Harry Potter here, Pollux. This is not a silly game-" She shot him a loaded look, paused as though she were weighing the thing she was next about to say, "-not like the ones you used to play."

A great look of surprise washed over Pollux's face, "How do-"

He stopped mid-sentence and an even larger look of shame passed over him and his shoulders slumped. His eyes glanced down to the Muggle laid helpless at their feet as his mind flashed with memories of several other moments that started just like this. "I regret those days and those nights every day of my life." His voice was heavy and strangulated as he looked to his sister. "I- I'm not sure of how you are aware of what happened, but you know that I, _now,_ would never-"

"Yes, I know." Cassie did not look ashamed of herself for bringing the topic up, nor did she appear sympathetic; instead she appeared righteous. "Which is exactly why you should be helping me with this. I did not go to Lucretia or Cedrella-"

"Why in Merlin's name would _you_ voluntarily go anywhere near _Cedrella-?"_

"-I came to you, brother. Because this is how we redeem ourselves for our misdeeds." Cassie talked over him, their voices still in low tones as the man upstairs finally began his descent. "We take the child from this… _place,_ and to Gringotts Bank. Then, we go to Arcturus with him in tow."

Pollux was torn and the emotions of the past were obvious on his face. "But why? Is Potter not safe here? What did you see inside that squibs head? And, well… why does _Arcturus_ want the boy?"

Scoffing, Cassie took hold of his forearm, dragging his attention there and away from her eyes. "I think it is quite obvious that he is not safe here, as we have found him rather easily. And everything else will reveal itself soon enough. Pollux," Both pairs of grey eyes shot to the staircase where they could see the large legs of the other inhabitant of Number Four slowly hobbling down the stairs, "Trust me."

Just as the man reached the step that would allow him to see over the banister and into the hallway, Pollux gave his sister a resigned nod and a familiar, shark-like smile stretched across Cassie's face. She elbowed him in the side, gestured towards the unknown man and quickly laid her wand flat in the palm of her right hand.

She whispered, "Point me, Harry James Potter," and the wand began to spin.

The second inhabitant of Privet Drive looked over the staircase banister and his beady eyes, engulfed by the massive size of his face, widened comically at the same time Pollux raised his wand.

"What-!"

" _Incarcerous_!"

Thin black cords shot from Pollux's wand, and the next moment the large man was bound and gagged, balancing dangerously on the stairs, wide eyes blinking in confusion. Pollux swished his wand again and gently levitated the man down the stairs and onto the floor of the hallway.

He gave the man a welcoming nod, the action causing his already pinkish face to turn a deep vermillion and he winced as the man began to give great, booming shouts that were muffled behind his gag.

"Am I correctly under the assumption that you, sir, are Mr Dursley? Breadwinner of this fine abode?" Pollux asked conversationally, ignoring the way the man's eyes narrowed into slits. He reached up with his free hand and ran two fingers along the very top shelf of the few that lined the hallway.

Bringing his hand back down, Pollux examined his fingers and scrunched his nose in disgust at the layer of dust he found there. Out of his trouser pocket, he pulled a delicate silver silk handkerchief with the initials P.L.B embroidered in lovely black calligraphy.

He spared Petunia a pitiful glance, but the woman was not looking at him, rather staring directly behind him at whatever it was Cassie was doing. Pollux turned his attention back to the man. He waved his wand in a tight, coiled gesture and watched as the gag was removed from his mouth.

He spoke before the man could get a word in edgewise. "Do you have a name, sir?" Pollux subtly pointed his wand at the man from his side and a slight blue spell hit him in his ankle.

Dursley was none the wiser.

"None of your blood… blo…" It was amusing, to watch the Muggle's eyes widen in panic as he realised he would have no choice but to answer. A prank spell, one that he had learnt from… well. A spell he had learnt a long time ago. "V-V- _Vernon._ Fuck _you_ , _you… you…_ you _freakish_ -!"

Pollux waggled his finger in Vernon's face as he fought a chortle. "Ah, ah, ah, Vernon, my friend. It seems you and your wife have limited vocabulary. Let's try and be civil, shall we? Cassie?"

When his sister didn't answer, Pollux turned, opening his mouth as he went to repeat his question. But he closed it instantly with a snap when he saw her standing dead still, staring at a cupboard door under the stairs with wide, unblinking eyes. Her wand was still in her palm as it had been when he had spoken to her last, and it was pointing directly at the cupboard.

He moved slowly to her side, careful not to spook her out of whatever daydream she was in and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Cassiopeia. What is it?"

Cassie's brows furrowed. Her voice was quieter than it had been previously. Pollux leaned in to hear her speak. "The squib hasn't seen him in weeks."

"What?" Pollux asked, his voice wavering as he too stared at the cupboard door. He _hoped_ she did not mean what he thought she meant.

"The… uh-" she cleared her throat, "the squib. Figg. She… in her mind I found memories of her watching them walk past her window; the woman, their child and Dorea's boy. Merlin knows where the man was, but they walked every other day. And then… they stopped. Or, _he_ stopped. She and her boy continued. Pollux," Cassie looked up at him, eyes for the first time looking worried, "what if he's… what if there's something-"

Pollux's grip tightened on her shoulder to what he thought must have been a painful degree. "If they have laid even a _finger_ on one of our blood, they shall be met with the wrath of House Black like _never_ before seen." His throat was tight as he gestured with his free hand towards the cupboard. "Is he definitely…?"

Cassie nodded but didn't move.

Taking his hand off of his sister, he moved towards the door. Barely acknowledging Vernon squirming from beneath his bindings and shouting madly, whatever he was saying was silenced instantly by a swift spell from his wand; he didn't think that Cassie could focus on anything but the possibly of the Potter child being… well, Pollux placed his left hand on the knob of the cupboard door.

It was cool and he could sense no wards, not that there would be considering the lack of protection that whoever had put him here had placed already.

He twisted the knob and felt it click open before he saw the door slowly creaked ajar. Just inside the door were stacked shoes and umbrellas, a broom, several badly hung shelves with tins of shoe-shine and what appeared to be a few extremely old bags of unopened pasta.

When Pollux pulled the door open fully wide, he caught a glimpse of something sat right in the centre of a rickety old cot with makeshift white painted railings that were peeling at the sides.

His legs almost gave way as his eyes adjusted to the low light and they finally landed on his great Nephew.

He looked exactly like James, Charlus and Fleamont Potter - unsurprisingly considering, following the Blacks, the Potters were well-known for their strong genes. With caramel skin that was a nod to his ancestry, unruly dark hair and the same thin nose, with his eyes closed Harry James Potter could be any of his three ancestors. But as the seventeen-month-old blinked up at him with emerald green eyes, so much like the eyes of Lily Potter, Pollux could see the reflection of Dorea Black in him. The high cheekbones, almond eyes and full lips were oh so much three Black traits.

Pollux ignored the thrum of pride that ran through his body as he leaned in close to the boy, holding out a gentle hand to his hair which sunk into the soft curls with ease. When Potter pressed up against him after a moment of looking unsure at the contact, Pollux leaned further forward and picked him up underneath his arms and tucked him into his side.

He turned around, expecting to see Cassie stood where she was before, but instead she was stood directly in front of Vernon Dursley, her wand tip pressed firmly against his temple as Petunia Dursley, still frozen on the floor, stared up at her husband in terror.

With Harry Potter on his hip, Pollux closed the cupboard door behind him and tried to ignore the way the boy's much-too bony leg dug into his side. The diaper Harry had on was full and stank, but in his mind all he could feel was relief that he was safe and not irreversibly harmed.

The Dursley's obviously didn't care for the boy, and for whatever reason Dumbledore, or whoever it was, had placed Harry in their care, Pollux knew that they would be taking him from this place, and he would _never_ return.

Pollux made to step over Petunia Dursley, ready to go and wait outside for Cassie to finish… doing whatever it was that she was doing to Vernon, when the light from the lampshade above hit Harry's face just right and Pollux's heart dropped to his stomach.

A scar.

A large, sheet white, incredibly beautiful, twining scar shaped like multiple bolts of lightning striking down into his right and left brows branched out over Harry's dark forehead, standing out vividly.

Pollux let out a short breath, running his finger along it with awe.

So, this was where the Dark Lord had tried to…

Fascinating.

After the news had reached him of the downfall of the Dark Lord, Pollux had collapsed up against Arcturus and almost crushed Irma's hand as he gripped it in relief.

Following his father's death in 1977, Pollux had lost the protection Cygnus I's allegiance with the Dark Lord had given him without realising, and the man had begun to target him and demonstrate his more ruthless side, the side Pollux had only witnessed.

It was only after he had attempted to recruit his granddaughter Andromeda and had succeeded in luring her sister Bellatrix to his legion of fighters, that Pollux had awoken from the dream of delusions he had been under. He only just managed to avoid the youngest Narcissa becoming directly involved within the Dark Lord's schemes by requesting Arcturus write a betrothal contract between Lucius Malfoy, Lord Abraxas Malfoy's son, and Cissa.

It had been a delicate situation, but now only one of his granddaughters was a certified Death Eater, another was just married to one and the last one was… well Andromeda had always been too intelligent for her own good and had managed to escape the Dark Lord without her incompetent family's help.

Irma had not been against the Dark Forces until Narcissa was at risk. She had always favoured her _darling girl_ over the two oldest, thinking 'Dromeda and Bella could take care of themselves.

But once Narcissa was involved and becoming a person of interest at the end of the her sixth year at Hogwarts, Irma had maintained firm in her stance with her husband and marital family against the Dark Lord.

Of course, now Bella was in Azkaban, Andromeda was living with her Muggleborn husband wherever she was and remained silent even after his apologetic, begging owls to her after her fight with her parents over her loyalties to her pure-blood two years ago.

Pollux's own son and his dastardly wife, the two who had brought the three siblings up and instilled in them whatever ridiculous ideals they had, Cygnus II and Druella, had never given an opinion into the lives of their children once they had left Hogwarts. Of course, Cygnus had been furious when Andromeda had left to marry the Muggleborn, she apparated right off the grounds of his Manor after he had demanded that she marry Rabastan Lestrange, and both he and Druella had demanded Arcturus to blast her off the family tree and disconnect her from their bloodline.

That had been their first mistake. Demanding the Lord of their House to do something was like demanding Merlin himself to shine your shoes; it was not _done_. And in their emotional states, they had lost their heads.

After Pollux had refused to see eye-to-eye with the Dark Lord's schemes following the danger it had placed on his family, Cygnus and Druella had locked themselves away; shamed with the sinner that was their eldest and shamed by their Lord of House for stepping out of place, Pollux had not seen his son and daughter in law for several years.

In short, it had been a massive relief for him when this small babe in his arms had somehow destroyed the tyranic dark Lord who had reigned havoc on his life.

And he, woe he was to admit being similar to people with lesser status, would be forever grateful, as would the rest of the magical world.

"Pollux!" Cassie hissed in his face and Pollux fought against the surprised jump as she shook him out of his reverie.

His arms felt lighter and he looked down to see Cassie had taken the Potter boy off of his hands and onto her own hip. The boy was sucking on a broach pinned to her dark cloak and his sister was trying her hardest, he could tell, to not push him off.

He looked over to the Dursley's and was once again surprised when he found them both missing. His shock must have shown on his face as Cassie scoffed and finally gently pulled Potter away from her broach.

"They're upstairs, probably in bed. I told them to make sure to tell no one of what happened tonight until they receive a letter from a Miss Dorea White giving them permission to do so."

"You didn't… the _imperious?"_

"No, Pollux. Of course not, you think very low of me. Just some harmless _coercion."_

Haraumphing, Pollux sad, "I'm assuming you're keeping the alias of Dorea White?

Cassie nodded. "You assume correctly."

"When will you send the letter?"

"When the time is right."

Pollux sighed, "Could you be any less specific."

"I could." Cassie ran her finger down Potter's scar. "This scar is… beautiful. He will carry it with him for life, there is no doubt."

"Well, one doesn't survive the killing curse without battle scars."

Cassie gave him a look. "One doesn't survive _war_ without battle scars."

Shying away from the heavy look she gave him, Pollux turned and faced the rest of the mundane Muggle street. The lampposts were not longer lit, which signified the early morning time.

"Where to now?"

"You're sure you don't want to get back to Crabby?"

"No, Cassiopeia." Pollux signed, resigned to her snide tone. "I do not. Not tonight. I will stay at Black Manor."

Cassie nodded, a smirk toying at her lips. "Hmm. As you wish." She lifted Potter's tired arms around her neck and then used her free hand to snap her fingers. "Tippy!"

There was a loud _crack_ and a house elf appeared from thin air right in front of them. A lightbulb lit in Pollux's mind at the sight of the familiar elf. He recognised it, but he didn't know where from.

"Mistress Cassie!" The elf squeaked, seemingly sobbing with apparent relief. "Tippy has been so worried, yes he has! Master Si-"

"Yes, thank you Tippy." Pollux's interest peaked as his sister talked loudly over the elf. "Please inform Lord Black that myself and Pollux have retrieved the boy and are on our way to the Goblins now."

"Yes Mistress!" He turned to Pollux, tucked back his little uniform tails and bowed to Pollux, "Mister Pollux, sir." And with that the elf was gone.

Pollux raised his brows. "Svart Slott. Norway was an interesting choice, sister."

Cassie huffed and pulled Potter tight into her chest before spinning on the spot an apparating away with a loud _crack._

* * *

**30th of December 1981  
Svart Slott, Oslo, Norway**

While Cassiopeia and Pollux were moving forward with their secretive mission in the early hours of the morning in Britain, across the channel in Norway, Sirius Black was fast snoozing away in the guest bedroom of the second floor at Svart Slott

In the same position he had been in for hours, after moving reluctantly from the bed to the overstuffed lounge chair, Sirius' legs were thrown haphazardly over the arm, with his new blackthorn wand resting comfortably on his chest and his left forearm was thrown over his eyes.

The pile of summoned items on the table next to the chair was missing, and if one looked around the bedroom, you would be able to see everything was back in their original places. Instead of the table being piled high with all the junk, there was a small tray with a cup of steaming hot tea and a few sandwiches. It was obvious that Tippy had left these here when Sirius had fallen asleep, avoiding the man's disapproval at his continued care.

A soft bird cawing from outside the window managed to seep through a small crack in the glass and Sirius shot awake so violently, it was as though an invisible foe had screamed right up against his eardrum.

His arm which had been thrown across his eyes to shield them from the low ambient lighting echoing from the side-table lamp, jolted as his entire body seemed to go through five stages of shock as he woke up. Sirius sat up, his back sliding up the armchair and his neck twisting around like a lost owl, searching for familiarity.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, Sirius blinked himself awake and coughed the rawness from his throat.

The soft scent of chamomile tea almost immediately invaded his nose and despite the lagging of his mind, Sirius reached out blindly for the tray, his hand crawling along the cool wood of the table before reaching the cup and hooking two fingers through the handle.

Bringing the cup to his lips, preparing himself to feel the warm comfort of hot liquid pouring down his cold throat, Sirius smiled softly and enjoyed the fact that his cheeks no longer hurt with the effort.

But then, the calming moment was shattered as the sound of a rushing fireplace reached his ears.

His heart-rate ticked up a notch, and Sirius tried his hardest to not overthink the situation right away as a set of footsteps followed. Of course a few months in Azkaban, and before that, years in an unsafe conflict environment, was going to make him feel on edge and suspicious.

Maybe it was nothing.

 _And yet_... maybe it was something.

It was best to check, Sirius thought, as he carefully placed the teacup back onto the tray and tapped his wand nervously against his thigh. He cleared his throat into the silence of the bedroom. "Tippy?"

There was no answer. He tried again, glancing worriedly at the hot cup of tea next to him. "Tippy, you there?"

When he was met yet again with silence, Sirius made up his mind.

Well, he had been asking after a challenge, hadn't he, he thought humourlessly to himself.

With his muscles and joints complaining from being in the same position for a while, Sirius stood slowly from the chair and stumblingly made his way over to the closed door of the bedroom. The door handle was cool the touch as he closed his palm over it and gave an experimental tug, expecting it to remain locked.

It didn't.

Instead, the heavy white painted mahogany slowly creaked open and revealed the castle beyond to him for the first time. The section of the hallway he could see through the doorway was lined with ancient furnishings; black oak panel flooring covered in several Persian rugs, which Sirius supposed were placed to prevent the Kneazles, that he was sure his Aunt owned, slipping and sliding on the wooden floor. There were soft lamps which lined the wall and were hung against the soft pastel brown and gold fringed wallpapering.

As Sirius steeled himself and stepped out of the guest bedroom, he peered down the dark corridor, lighting his wand with a muttered _lumos._ He noticed that the hall went only a few more doors down from him to the right, before stopping with a large, floor-to-ceiling window that showed off a spectacular view of the waters edge, lit up by deep blue and violet fluorescent lights. No doubt for the enjoyment of Muggle tourists.

He turned and looked to the left of the bedroom to see a set of twisting wooden stairs, lined with a red velvet carpet and five Muggle, motionless portraits. He figured they were probably from the era when Muggles had full control of the castle.

A loud cough from downstairs had Sirius' heart jumping up into his throat and reminded him of why he had ventured from the safety of the bedroom in the first place.

On shaky legs, he made his way slowly towards the staircase, carefully picking out spots on the carpet so as to make sure the floorboards didn't creak underneath his uneven steps.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he crouched down and peered through the gaps in the banister, spotting the fireplace roaring a bright green which signified the recent arrival of a patron into the drawing room.

So, there definitley was an intruder, because as the person cleared their throat once again, the voice did not sound like his Aunt Cassie.

Sirius straightened back up, whispered, " _Nox,"_ and started his tentative ascent, ignoring the dull, throbbing ache in his lower back and thighs as they protested all this sudden exercise after his struggle to get across the bedroom the past day.

Wand aloft, he finally reached the main floor and what he recognised as the Entrance Hall of Svart Slott. The official front door, which was off limits due to the Muggles believing it to be broken with time and unfixable, was to the right of the intruder's position and Sirius' eventual destination. He stepped mindfully through the Entrance Hall, keeping his wand arm up and ready to fire whatever spell he was capable of in the moment of action, and his grey, dead-set eyes remaining on the shadowy figure.

It only took him a moment to tiptoe to the drawing room entrance, before he narrowed his eyes in concentration, nudged the door slightly more ajar than it already was, and pounced with much more agility than he should have, considering the way his back muscles rippled in objection.

The dark figure, illuminated by the shadows of the roaring fire, spun on their heel and gasped in shock when they felt Sirius Black's hand wrap around their neck and saw the tip of his wand glow a bright red, almost fizzing with the promise of drastic injury.

His voice was akin to Padfoot's growl when he spoke:

"Who the bloody _fuck_ are you and what are you doing in my Aunt's house!?"


End file.
